#genuinely i paused for a moment and i was like.

[luveline]

hello lovely angel!! humbly requesting zombie!steve au, perhaps more of jealous steve? i love their dynamic so much💗 maybe someone is flirting with reader, and enter protective steve:)

thanks for requesting! fem, 2k

You tend to think of it in two weird halves. You love Steve, and you never would’ve known that without the end of the world, so things are okay. Sometimes you wonder if he ever could’ve loved you if he hadn’t been so close to you for so long, but he loves you in this insane capacity of softness that says otherwise. Like, soulmate style. 

It didn’t begin that way. Steve your reluctant guide, and you his unlikely saviour. You’d stopped him from dying at the very start of it all and he couldn’t leave you behind. And Steve, he’d been mean to you. He didn’t want to take care of you initially, but you’d grown to get along. You’d argue black and blue and he’d still rub your back at night. 

There are so many moments you’ve shared that make what you have all the more special. A hundred different memories from before you’d ever kissed. You think about it now, watching him across the firepit as he shows a young girl, Cassandra, how to braid her hair. 

The one that’s sticking today is when Steve got really bad food poisoning for the first time. When you’d known you were in love with him for a while, and when he’d stopped pretending he didn’t know. He’d been sick everywhere, on both your shoes, and you’d rubbed his back through everything.  

It was nice to take care of him. Nicer that night when you’d shared a bed and he’d hugged you half to death. 

He has no idea how much he means to you, or how much those moments with him kept you going when you were all alone. You’re lucky now to have found community, but those stolen hours in bed with him hugging him and getting to be his support, you wouldn’t have made it here without them. 

“Hey.” 

You look up as a man sits down. A boy, a man —what do you call twenty somethings? You don’t feel like a woman most of the time, but you are. 

“Hi,” you say. 

“I’m Jamison.” 

“You’re Eddie’s friend, right?” 

“Who, Munson?” Jamison makes a kidding face, a disgusted scrunch of his eyebrows that falls away to more friendly fondness. “Yeah, we go back. You’re Eddie’s friend too, right? I saw you guys taking out some laundry a few days ago.” 

Jamison is handsome. He has tan skin, short hair, and a crooked nose. His smile is disarming. If you hadn’t fallen in love with the handsomest guy around, you might feel nervous under his gaze. 

Time spent ugly under Steve’s reverent handling makes you confident. You genuinely feel prettier knowing Steve loves you, and it makes it easier to be yourself with strangers. 

“Eddie’s awesome,” you say easily. “I thought he was gonna kill me when we first met, but he’s too nice.” 

“Nice, really?” 

Jamison is casual, as people go. You wonder what his motivations are for talking to you at first, but as conversation stretches, littered with the cracking pops of the fireplace and brief pauses of surprisingly comfortable silence, you realise he’s just talking. Maybe he’s lonely. You know how that feels. 

He tells you that he and Eddie had been in a rock band together before the apocalypse. You’d known to some extent that Eddie was in a band, but Jamison tells you all the details you’d been missing. They were called Corroded Coffin, four members, Eddie played guitar and Jamison thought he was pretty fucking good at it, actually. 

“I don’t think we would’ve been, like, Metallica. But we could’ve been good. We were gonna make a record.” 

You smoke sympathetically. “I bet you could’ve been.” 

“What were you doing? Before all this?” 

“I honestly barely remember,” you say quietly. Your life before Steve is a blur, and it’s painful, too. “Things are harder now, I know that. I wish every day that we could go back to how things were, you know, I miss TV and grocery stores and my family.” You lick your lips. “I wish things were different, but somehow, I think I like my life now. I have stuff to do. Is that crazy?” 

“It’s not crazy. Everything fucking sucks,” —you both laugh— “but that’s not crazy. I’m lucky, I still have my dad, and my friends. There’s purpose in being here.” 

You nod emphatically, just once. “Exactly.” 

You have purpose, now. You get to be a friend, a girlfriend, a confidente. You take care of people. 

It all comes back to Steve, at the end of the day. Would you change the world if it meant never having met him? 

Nope. 

You glance across the fire for him, but he’s not there. 

You put your arm behind your back and bend, looking for him. 

“Looking for someone?” Jamison asks. 

You deflate with relief when you spot him standing near the gaggle of tents about fifty feet away. He’s looking at you from over Robin’s shoulder. You wave, and he waves back with a big smile. 

Something seems a little wrong. 

“Steve,” you explain. 

“He’s your boyfriend, yeah? Eddie told me you’ve been together since the start.” 

You don’t bother correcting him. He might not mean together as how you’re thinking it. “Yeah, that’s him. Have you met him?” 

“Kind of. We all thought he was a huge dick, back then.” 

“He sort of was,” you say. “I mean, we all had our own stuff going on. I get that I’m biased, but he’s my favourite person I’ve ever met. He’s so kind, I don’t think I could describe it to you or anyone just how much he cares about people. I wouldn’t be here without him, and… I don’t know, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but if you ever wanted to meet him again, he’s amazing. He’s a great friend. He’s so fucking funny, he makes me laugh every day.” 

“He’s sort of giving me the stink eye,” Jamison says. 

You wave your hand weakly. “He has raging jealousy issues.” 

“Shit, am I getting you in trouble?” 

“No, never!” you say, tempted to laugh. “He doesn’t get mad at me for stuff like that. He’s normal, I promise. Just sensitive.”

You tell Jamison that it was nice talking to him because it really was, but you’ve been missing Steve for hours already and you need to get back to him before you go totally bonkers. 

He’s sitting on the floor in the tent. The weather has been beautiful lately, you could sleep under the stars if you weren’t scared of being zombie charcuterie. Steve has stripped down to just his jeans and socks, no t-shirt or shoes to be seen. He has his sketchbook splayed open on his thigh, but he abandons it the moment you kneel down. 

“Hey,” you say. 

Steve folds his book closed, pencil between its pages. “Hi. Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” 

You shuffle in to take his hand. Clumsy touches, his fingers warm and a tad clammy between yours. “You told me yesterday that I have a smile like an angel. I know you were kidding, but I still felt it.” 

“I wasn’t kidding,” he says, wrinkling his nose with a smile. “You think every compliment is a joke.” 

“Don’t make me laugh so much, then.” 

He squeezes your fingers gently. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself to Jamison. Just, I knew him already from school. And he did not like me.” 

“That’s okay. He seemed nice, I think you’d get along if you met now.” You kick your shoes off and crawl as close to him as you can get. He looks up at you, but you look down at his lap. “What are you drawing?” 

“I was just trying to touch up that landscape I did of the river,” he says, a sheepishness to him as he opens his sketchbook. 

You read it with affection, trace lines and hatchings in awe. “Steve, I really wish you had time and space to do this stuff properly. Not that you aren’t doing it properly, just, I know you could make something just as beautiful as this with paint.” You slide to be sitting properly, putting you both at the same height, so you can meet his eyes as you continue. “Did you know what you wanted to do, when you were finishing school? Did you ever think about art?” 

“I thought about it.” His lips quirk. “Mostly about how my dad would’ve kicked me out if I said something that stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

“I know.” 

That would’ve been a nice life. You and Steve living together, with a basement for his paintings, or a garage turned studio. You’d read books together every night like you do now, and you’d scrub paint smudges off of his cheek. 

You love him so much it must give you an aura. 

“I’ve got nothing to worry about, huh?” he asks softly. 

You drift in, tipping your head back for a kiss you don’t take. “I don’t know, Steve, Jamison used to be in a rock band.” 

He scoffs in disgust. You think it might be a mixture of anger at Jamison and himself. “Who wants to date a rockstar?” 

“I might’ve.” 

You’re teasing, of course, smiling as your kiss draws nearer, and nearer. 

“Well, I can be a rockstar,” he says quietly, warmth of his breath on your lips. “Just give me a chance to get there.” 

You brush the tip of your nose against his and hold your breath. “That’s okay,” you say, letting it rush out of you in a huff, your excitement to be kissed too much to bear, “I like my guys all mixed up. Preferably good at track, and swimming, but with a soft side. Kind of guy who fills a sketchbook up with my face.” 

Steve lists to the side. Your lips are so close, you can feel the phantom of them against yours as he moves in. “It’s not just your face… it’s your hands, your arms… your everything–”

He cuts his own explanation off with a soft kiss. That softness swiftly hardens, turns rough, ten long seconds of sweetness before his hands coming up behind your head and he’s pressing inward, deepening the kiss, and giving you little room to breathe. 

You have no intention of dating any rockstars, but his jealous streak has nothing but upsides for you. Steve knows that his jealousy over the innocuous is his own problem, his own insecurity that he’s working on, and while you sympathise with him (after all, haven’t you yourself worried he’d find someone else he liked more?), you have to confess to enjoying the edge to his kissing. 

You make a pleased, humoured sound as he breathes you in like you’re a drug he’s been waiting for. He gets sloppier, and you can’t help pulling away to laugh. 

“What?” he asks, thumbing at your cheek in a soft juxtaposition. “Sorry, am I being a dick?” 

“No, it’s fine. Kiss me how you want to.” 

Steve kisses your cheek softly. “He knows you have a boyfriend, right?” 

“He knows.” 

Steve hums like he’s smiling and nudges your nose with his, until you part your lips, and he wades in for another dose. 

[tiredfox64]

Any chance we could get some of bihan (possibly his brothers as well, if you feel like it) s/o who's very sensitive and not super socially aware embarrassing the shit out of him in public with mushy nicknames and mentioning embarrassing romantic moments and giving him a little kissy in public. And his partners very softhearted and he doesn't want to hurt her feelings by saying anything so he just has to endure it.

A Heart Made of Soft Ice

Yip notes: GUESS WHO FELT GUILTY AND FORCED HERSELF TO FINISH THIS EVEN THO SHE IS BEHIND ON ASSIGNMENTS ALREADY ;-;

Pairing: Bi-Han x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: Too sick to proofread fully, also embarrassment I guess

We all know the saying opposites attract. Have you ever tried to push two magnets together and they keep avoiding each other because they are on the same side and you get really frustrated—why are you crying?

Let’s cut to the chase since tears are falling now. It’s a wonder that you work so well with Bi-Han. Ya know, the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei who wishes to be feared and can’t accept his adoptive brother who has been living with him for many years. Oh yeah, a match made in purgatory.

It’s a relationship that shocks many. A cold-blooded killer with a woman who cries during animal documentaries when the prey gets captured is not the usual pairing. You’re delicate like porcelain while Bi-Han is an actual ice wall. He can’t be nice to Tomas whenever he speaks his mind but the moment you speak about something that bothered you he’ll shut his mouth and listen to what you have to say. He even puts in the effort to do other expressions instead of scowling the whole time because he doesn’t want you to believe he’s mad at you. The best he can give is raising his eyebrows and opening his eyes a little, take it or leave it. He has a resting bitch face.

Many have asked you how you could be with that man. Well, it’s very simple actually. When it comes to you he tries his best to cool off. He could be mad at everyone else for the smallest reasons but the moment he looks at you he uses all his might to calm down. If he doesn’t he knows he will scare you or make you think that he is mad at you for no reason. In all honesty, he can’t afford to lose you. You know how hard it was to make you trust him? It’s like befriending a raven you can’t look at them even when they are eating out the palm of your hand.

But he genuinely needs you. You make him feel balanced. When he’s all cold and stern you soften him up like a candle to a glacier. It’s not much but it’s honest work. It probably saves his ass from making rash decisions as well. Heaven knows he gets himself into too much trouble by himself.

And when he’s in those moments where he’s silent and listening to you speak as he cools off you can do whatever. Shoot, you can call him whatever you want. Possibly something like—

“SNOOKUMS!”

Yeah, that.

Your voice echoes through the halls and into the ears of Lin Kuei warriors. Everyone pauses, processing the word you just yelled out. What’d you say? Snookie? What the hell is a Snookie? Well, you’re Bi-Han’s woman so maybe he knows…probably knows…definitely knows.

It’s the look in his eyes that tells everyone he knows. Wide and blank but his eyebrows are not arched in a confused manner. His arms were folded and his nails dug into his tense muscles. The dots connect with everyone and they slowly start looking at their grandmaster. Another yell emitted and grew louder as you came closer

“SNOOKUMS—Oh there you are!” You replied in a cheery tone. It’s much better than that banshee yell that radiates panic and desperation for your Snookums aka Bi-Han.

You run over to your loving boyfriend with a blanket wrapped around you because it will forever be too cold in Arctika. You hugged him tightly, not paying any mind to his bugged-out eyes. It’s horrifying to see him that way considering he is a man who is 80% of the time narrowing his eyes and 20% staring at others with murderous intent. But this stare is all a big question of what he is supposed to do about you. You already yelled that silly nickname and now you’re hugging him like he isn’t a man that’s supposed to be feared.

Some of the clansmen had the nerve to start snickering a little, finding your display of affection to be ridiculous. It’s even more ridiculous that Bi-Han is allowing this. But their snickering was silenced when Bi-Han slammed his foot on the ground, causing a patch of jagged ice to form and make its way to the clansmen before stopping short. He quickly covered your ears to prevent you from hearing his yell.

“Get back to training! I will not hesitate to dispose of those who are unworthy of taking the Lin Kuei seriously!”

Silence ripped through the room before everyone went back to training. Bi-Han slowly dropped his hands from your ears and you pretended like you didn’t hear his outburst. Blissful ignorance is a wonderful thing. He grabbed your wrist, a little too hard for your liking, and dragged you away till you two were a good distance away from everyone else. He let go of your wrist and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down.

“Why must you yell that-“ he paused to prevent hurting your feelings by saying the nickname Snookums is stupid, “name when you could have easily kept quiet and looked around the temple.”

His words were not taken in since you were focused on rubbing your wrist. He watched as you looked up at him with wet eyes. Sadness is an understatement, despair and betrayal are the correct terms for how you were feeling. Oh gods, he could kick a kitten in the middle of a blizzard and it wouldn’t even look at him like that.

You felt a ball form in your throat, making it difficult to swallow. Your nostrils flared up and a heavy huff was being produced by you. And then the whining.

“Mmmmmm.”

No…

“Mmmmmmmmm!”

Hold it together…

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmeh heh heh heh!”

Wha-What the fuck—Cartman?

Your whines rose in volume and Bi-Han immediately reacted. He covered your mouth to muffle your sadness and tried to de-escalate the situation before your eyes went puffy from tears. He’s nodding his head no while staring you down. From your position, you believed he was angry at you for crying. You know he could never be mad at you but he is feeling a little panicky as he tried to figure out a way to stop you from crying.

“Shh, shh, stop—I’m not mad at you,” he said in his deep voice which didn’t help convince you that he wasn’t mad. The only way he can truly make you stop is by pulling out the big guns aka giving you a hug. He just needs to look around first to see if the coast is clear.

Bi-Han let out a low groan before wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you. It’s like a weighted blanket was wrapped around you before an anaconda decided to come around and squeeze you till you stopped crying. He managed to calm you down and you returned the hug while still sniffling. The idea that Bi-Han was not mad at you had set in and you finally felt calm. Maybe not Bi-Han, his eyes were shifting all around trying to make sure no one walked in on him being all lovey dovey.

“Can I stay with you while you train everyone?” You asked.

Bi-Han really, really, REALLY wanted to tell you to go back into the bedroom and wait for him to return. But with that tone you asked him in and your already shaken-up emotions, it would be a disaster to tell you not to stay.

“Yes…you may stay, but you need to keep quiet for the sake of everyone. You must not distract anyone as they are training.” He’s just making an excuse but you will listen to him.

“Okay!” You replied in a cheery tone.

You two stopped hugging and returned back to where everyone else was. You clung to your blanket while walking side by side with Bi-Han. Now please oh please do not show your affection for him in front of others. He loves you but he also likes it when others fear him.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Well…you kept quiet…still doesn’t mean you weren’t lovey dovey in your own way.

It is pretty cute to see Bi-Han with a blanket wrapped around him while you stand in front of him, holding onto the ends of the blanket to make sure you both stay wrapped. It’s only ruined by the fact that he is staring icy dagger at anyone who even snorts. But you don’t know that. You’re in your own happy world where it’s just you and Bi-Han. And in this happy little world, you’re reminded of all the lovely times you and him were actually alone. Times where you would be cuddling in bed as you told him the most basic things ever such as how you saw a chipmunk that day. Meanwhile, Bi-Han is hugging you from behind as his mind rages on about something that Tomas did that isn’t really something to be mad about. Another happy memory came up but this time you vocalized about it.

“Oh Bibi, when we go back to the bedroom can I play with your hair?” His head snapped to look at you right after you said that.

Deep breath in…deep breath out…deep breath in…don’t yell at your girlfriend breath out…

Nearby you both could hear Tomas whisper to Kuai Liang, “I knew he would let her do that,” which almost sent Bi-Han into a fit. He luckily managed to keep it together while his nails dug into the palm of his hand from how hard he was clenching his fists. He nodded slightly, hoping that if he gave you a yes you wouldn’t say anything else. But guess what, YA DID!

“Yay! I can't wait to brush your hair and use my Cinnamoroll hair claw to put it up. You look so good with it up. Oh, what else should I put in your hair?” You let out a gasp like you just came up with the best idea ever, “What if I put a flower clip near your left ear? That means you can show off that you’re in a relationship with me. I’ll try to find a blue flower for you, Bibi.”

Alright, that’s genuinely a cute image to think of. That doesn’t stop Bi-Han from staring at you and questioning why he needs to use a flower to represent his relationship status. Everyone knows he is dating you, how much evidence does he need? Nobody even feels like what you said was silly. It’s adorable how much you love Bi-Han and want to show that you two are together. Even his brothers are gushing about it.

“Aww…you wish that was you with Harumi, huh?” Tomas whispered to Kuai Liang.

Kuai Liang looked at Tomas like he just lost his damn mind. Let’s just return to the sweet couple that is you and Bi-Han.

Your excitement was rudely interrupted by the sound of someone laughing. It was clearly to laugh at you, not with you. You looked over your shoulder to look at the Lin Kuei warrior who decided to laugh at you.

“What is with you and trying to make our grandmaster seem like a spineless weakling? What’s next? Are you going to put makeup on him to make him look prettier? Paint his nail?”

The more the clansman spoke, the more embarrassed you felt. You had no idea you were making your boyfriend look weak in front of his clan. That was never your intention. You always want to support Bi-Han while also getting the full experience of having a partner who allows you to do anything. You turned to look at Bi-Han again and mouthed an “I’m sorry” to him. That knot came back once again and you felt tears form in your pretty eyes. This hurt worse than when you thought Bi-Han was mad at you. Your lip quivered and you felt that whine rise in your throat before you felt Bi-Han’s lips on your forehead. He gave you a kiss on your forehead that was gentle but lasted for a few good seconds. He then removed the blanket from you two and rewrapped it around you. You had no idea what he was doing but oh it was a surprise for many.

Bi-Han moved in the blink of an eye. One second he was next to you and the next he was in front of the clansman who insulted you, his neck being strangled by your boyfriend’s hand. A path of ice was left behind which explained his quick movement. He then slammed the clansman hard against the ground. The sound of a bone cracking could be heard along with the thudding of the body hitting the ground. No one knew what bone just broke but the clansman sure would know. He was out in an instant. For a second, you believed Bi-Han killed a member of his clan. On closer inspection, you can see their chest rising and lowering slowly. They were luckily still alive though horribly injured.

There was silence before your boyfriend yelled, “Does anyone else wish to question their grandmaster’s authority or my partner’s choices?”

Everyone nodded no. A wise choice.

“Good. Now this will be the last time I tell all of you to get back to training!” Bi-Han yelled before returning to you.

No one bothered to help the other guy he had it coming. Plus, everyone is scared that if they helped him, their grandmaster would go after their throats next. Just work around him.

You wrapped your arms around Bi-Han’s neck and squeezed him close to you, “Bibi, you know you didn’t have to hurt that guy. I could have handled his insults.” No, you couldn’t.

“Aww, but you just love me so much that you want to protect me. You’re like a woolly mammoth. All fuzzy and possibly cuddly but a big, tough guy overall. You’re my woolly mammoth.”

Oh gosh, not the woolly mammoth comparison. Anything but that. He’d take a snow leopard but a woolly mammoth?

You started kissing him wherever you could, mostly on his jawline. He’s secretly ticklish there. He was emitting his low groan the whole time but secretly he liked it. How could he not? No matter what you do, what you call him, what you talk about, he will love you at the end of the day. A real man would endure the embarrassment. Bi-Han sure is a man.

A man who goes by the nicknames of Snookums, Bibi, and now Wooly Mammoth.

And at the end of the day, you finally get to be alone with your man in the bedroom where you would play with his hair. Oh, look, a blue flower hair clip. You know where to put it.

“Is it necessary to place a flower in my hair to represent—AH!” He let out a yelp as you yanked a handful of his hair close to you and put the clip in.

“Absolutely, don’t fight me on this.”

Yeah, Snookums, don’t fight it.

Yap notes: YALL IM SO SORRY FOR BEING OUT! SCHOOL ISN'T BAD BUT IT ISN'T GOOD IVE HAD NO TIME TO WORK ON FICS OR EVEN PERSONAL STORIES YET. ITS WORSE BECAUSE IM WRITING THIS WHILE SICK AND JUST FINISHING MY PERIOD YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IT SUCKS TO BE SICK AND HAVING MY PERIOD. IVE FELT SO GUILTY FOR DAYS I HAD TO PUT OUT SOMETHING ELSE I DIDN'T WANT YALL TO STAVE AND IT WAS REDARA'S ART THAT PUSHED ME TO FINISH SO THANKS RED MUCH LOVE. I HOPE EVERYONE IS DOING OKAY I LOVE YOU ALL THANKS YOU FOR HAVING PATIENCE. OKAY I HAVE TO GO IM LITERALLY SHAKING AS IM DEALING WITH PAIN. ADIÓS!

[paddockletters]

late-night talkings | osxar piastri

paring: oscar piastri x reader

summary: Late at night, unable to sleep, you and Oscar dive into a heartfelt conversation about racing, the future, and life beyond the track. As memories resurface and dreams unfold, you realize just how much the future holds for both of you.

author's note: first fic with oscarrrr, i hope you liked it .. Well, as I always say... english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

It was well past 1 AM, and neither of you could sleep. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the dim light barely enough to push back the darkness. You lay next to Oscar, staring at the ceiling, each of you lost in your thoughts.

His sigh broke the silence first, and you turned your head slightly to see him lying on his back, eyes heavy with exhaustion yet still wide awake.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice was low, barely a whisper in the stillness of the night.

“Nope,” you replied, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “You?”

Oscar chuckled lightly, running a hand through his messy hair. “Not even close. My mind won’t shut off.”

You shifted closer to him, the blanket sliding down as you propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. “What’s on your mind?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on the back of your hand, a small, comforting gesture.

“Everything,” he finally said, his voice soft. “Racing, the future, us…”

You tilted your head, a small frown forming on your face. “What about us?”

Oscar let out a sigh, his eyes flickering over to meet yours. “I’ve been thinking… about where I want to be in a few years. About what happens after racing. And I don’t know, it’s just been on my mind a lot lately.”

You paused, taking in his words. It wasn’t the first time you had these late-night conversations, but this one felt heavier, more serious.

“What do you see?” you asked softly, your fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead.

He hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “I see more races, obviously. Hopefully a few wins,” he added with a small smile, but there was something deeper behind it. “But after that... I don’t know. I just know I want you there with me, wherever that is.”

His words settled in your chest, warm and comforting. You remembered a conversation you'd had early in his career, before everything got so intense, before the constant travel, the pressure, the sleepless nights like this one.

It was his rookie season, and everything had been so new—so exhilarating and overwhelming all at once. You were standing in the paddock, watching him from the sidelines as he navigated the chaos of his first race weekend. You could still remember the way his face lit up when he saw you after the race, his excitement bubbling over despite the exhaustion that lined his features.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” he had said, pulling you into a hug. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, his heart still racing from the adrenaline of the day. “I didn’t think I’d make it this far, but here we are.”

“I always knew you would,” you had replied, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “You were born for this.”

Now, lying next to him in the dark, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory. So much had changed since then, but in many ways, things were still the same. You were still by his side, through the highs and the lows, the wins and the losses. And he was still the same Oscar, even if the weight of the world sometimes rested on his shoulders.

“What about kids?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. “Do you ever think about that?”

Oscar’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then he laughed, the sound soft and genuine. “You’re really asking me about kids at 2 AM?”

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Why not? You’re the one who brought up the future.”

He sighed, his expression turning thoughtful. “I do think about it sometimes. Not anytime soon, obviously, but... yeah. I could see us with kids one day.”

There was a moment of silence, and then he added with a teasing grin, “They’d have to be faster than me, though. I can’t have slow kids.”

You burst out laughing, playfully swatting his arm. “You and your racing. I swear, you’ll be teaching them to drive before they can even walk.”

Oscar grinned, his eyes lighting up with that mischievous sparkle you loved so much. “Absolutely. I’ll get them in a kart as soon as they’re old enough. Gotta keep the Piastri legacy going.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest only grew. It was moments like this—these small, quiet conversations—that reminded you of why you loved him so much. Despite the craziness of his career, despite the pressure and the constant traveling, he was still the same goofy, thoughtful guy you fell in love with.

“Do you ever wonder what we’d be doing if you weren’t racing?” you asked after a beat of silence.

Oscar turned his head to look at you, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But then I think… this is where we’re supposed to be. I don’t think I’d be happy doing anything else. And I like to think you wouldn’t either.”

You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “You’re right. I can’t imagine a life without you doing what you love.”

His hand found yours under the covers, and he squeezed it gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m glad you’re here, you know. I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache in the best way, and you leaned in closer, resting your head on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The conversation lulled, but the silence was comfortable, filled with unspoken promises and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. You lay there together, wrapped up in each other, the future stretching out ahead of you in a way that felt both daunting and exciting all at once.

But eventually, exhaustion began to creep in, and you could feel Oscar’s breathing start to even out as he drifted off to sleep. You stayed awake for a little while longer, your mind swirling with thoughts of everything you had talked about—the future, kids, racing. It was all so uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel scared.

As sleep finally began to claim you, you whispered into the quiet, “Goodnight, Oscar.”

In the dim light, you felt him smile, his arms tightening around you as he mumbled sleepily, “Goodnight, love.”

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💜- 'a tender kiss on the partner's shoulder'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: you and teri requested the same thing so i tried to make it extra fluffy <3 i hope you enjoy, my lovess <3 (if this doesn't show up in the tags again i'm gonna scream)

You could admit without any hesitation that cooking for your loved ones was your favorite way of spoiling and showering them with your unwavering affection. Seeing their faces light up at the sight of their favorite meal after a tiring, long day was an unmatched experience, along with the content sighs of delight and the faint smiles adorning their features as they chewed happily, recharging.

It was a love language, described beautifully on every page of your treasured, worn cookbook. The one you’ve been handling with care from the moment you decided to learn to cook your best friend’s comfort food back in high school when she desperately needed a pick-me-up.

Years later, honing those skills came in handy as you began cooking for every gathering, be it with friends or family, feeding yourself with their genuine joy and bright smiles. After all, nothing spelt ‘I love you’ quite like a homecooked meal, prepared with care and utmost attention as you danced to the beat of your favorite songs in your small kitchen.

And one person in particular knew all about it, receiving your love in all forms but especially through your cooking. Seungmin had never felt this special until he met you, the person who would bend over backwards to bring a simple smile to his face, longing to make him happy every minute of every day spent by your side.

So naturally, he wished to return the sentiment, needing to bring you even a quarter of all that happiness you gifted him every day.

“Good morning, my love.” Seungmin feels you before he hears you, your arms wrapping around his middle snuggly as your chin moves to peer over his shoulder curiously. “Whatcha’ doin'?”

He shakes his head affectionately, flipping over a pancake with a smile. “I mean, I was trying to surprise you with breakfast in bed but it looks like you had other plans.”

“Oh.”

Not your fault the bed was cold, which had you waking up in search of him on autopilot. Nobody could blame you for missing your boyfriend when you spent every free moment glued to each other’s sides.

Even so, he can tell you feel bad, voice dropping as a pout takes over sunny features. But he can also tell how much you appreciate the gesture, tightening the embrace before placing a tender kiss on his shoulder, lips lingering there when you speak again. “I’m sorry. I can go back if you want me to.”

“Yes, please.” He nods, placing another pancake on the plate next to the stove, diligently building his syrupy pancake tower like a skilled architect.

You laugh, kissing his nape. “Alright, baby. Anything for you.”

Yet as you try to unwrap your arms from around him, one of his hands grabs your wrist to keep you in place. “Not…right now. Maybe in, um, two minutes?”

His attempts at keeping you near a little bit longer were absolutely adorable, heart melting into a red puddle resembling strawberry jam. How could you say no?

So, you embrace him again, smiling from ear to ear as you both bask in each other’s love while the sun struggles to rise on this cloudy morning. You begin talking and conversing about mundane things as two minutes turn into five, and then ten, when you pause to plant kisses all over his upper back and shoulders, congratulating him for finishing the food as he giggles shyly. Praising your talented love will remain one of your favorite activities as long as you draw breath.

“You can go now.” He says, swiftly turning around in your embrace. “But take this first, and don’t lose it, alright?”

You’re confused, brows rising in wonder as Seungmin doesn’t elaborate but moves your arms to settle over his shoulder, his circling your waist naturally. “What – “

He silences you with a kiss, the corners of his mouth turning upwards briefly as you finally catch on, amused, before bringing you closer so you’re chest to chest, just as the first ray of sunshine sneaks past your ajar window.

While he would never expect you to return the pancakes, his kiss was another story. You needed to hold on to it, guarding it with your life until the right moment came along and you could surprise him by returning the love tenfold and stealing his breath away.

You know what they say, an eye for an eye. But in this case, a kiss for another kiss.

[earth4angels]

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: when she saw him, she was only twelve with a bag of bread crumbs for her birds in the park. she thought he was beautiful and funny, he saw the world differently and there was never a moment he didn’t show her the beauty of it , she just didn’t think just how much pain he held inside.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: character death, blood, bullying, mentions of murder, gun violence, depression, hurt & comfort. childhood friends to lovers (kinda). miscommunications.

You first met Oliver Hide on a spring day, which ended up being a gloomy day. You did not mind, you loved to take walks after school to feed the birds at the park. It was always quiet, chirping and the low sounds of the wind was all you heard so when you found a boy around your age with his knees pressed against his chest, you stopped.

To question was wrong, but you couldn’t help to wonder why was he so sad? Why was he crying? You figured it was best to leave him be, your parents taught you to never meddle into anything that didn’t concern you. This was also a stranger.

As you backtracked, the leaves announced your departure. You winced when you saw the stranger’s head snap up from the bundle of sadness to look directly at you.

You offered a small smile filled with embarrassment, “I’m sorry.”

The stranger sniffed, wiping his eyes fast before he got up. His voice groggy, raspy from the crying he had released. “Ts’ alright…”

You opened your mouth and closed it again. You shouldn’t, you really should go home and get home before dinner but you just didn’t like the way this boy’s face was filled with so much anguish. The look did not fit him.

To hell with it.

You bit your lip before you spoke, “Are you… are you okay?”

He paused from grabbing his backpack, his eyes shaking. You saw the mental battle he was going through, the way he swallowed, or how his hands began to fiddle.

You knew better than to meddle into things that did not concern you. Mentally you slapped yourself, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t-“

His hand went up to stop you, “No! No it’s okay. Thank you.”

Your eyes met his again, and for some reason your heart broke at the sight of him. His eyes were blood shot, his nose red by the constant rubbing. You felt the need to hug him, to give him your comfort bunny that helped you when you felt sad.

“Do you.. do you know what helps me?”

He sniffed, the sleeve of his sweater wet yet he cleaned his runny nose. Timidly, he shook his head so slightly you almost missed it.

“Henry. My plush bunny. My mom gave me him when I broke my arm from doing cart wheels. I cried a lot but when I held him. I felt better.”

The stranger smiled with secrets you wanted to know. “That’s nice.”

You nodded with enthusiasm, you saw the way the sadness began to leave his face. So you took steps closer to him, extending your hand out with a smile on your face. You had succeeded in making his smile look more alive.

“I’m y/n! What’s your name?”

He was taller than you, his hair was nicely combed to the side with slight curls at the tips. His eyes were very pretty and you knew then, it looked better when it was filled with happiness. His hand met yours in an warm embrace, your palm smaller and warmer than his cold, bigger hand.

“Oliver. But, you can call me Ollie,” he spoke with a smile, a genuine smile that made him blush with the longer he held your hand.

You continued to smile, matching his. With your hand in his, and the sun peeking out the clouds, you felt a friendship bloom.

At the age of 12, you befriended a broken boy, who often climbed into your window to lay in your bed and whisper why he was so afraid of being alone. You made a promise one night as both of you laid side to side, watching the glowing stars you had pasted on your ceiling.

“For as long as I am alive, I will always be your friend Ollie.”

Ollie held your hand that night and with a shaky breath he pressed a kiss on the front of your hand. “Do you promise?”

You faced him, flicking his forehead, you giggled when he whined softly, “I pinky and double promise. Crossing my heart if I die, I will never leave you Ollie. I promise.”

From then, the friendship grew. Every day was a new adventure, and having you by his side made Ollie happier. He did not think so much about the problems at home or how his parents constantly neglected him. He was just glad he had you, the most prettiest girl with a bright smile and words that filled his heart with warmth. Every day, was another reason piled in his list to why it was so easy to love you.

Ollie Hide, was in love with you. And he never knew just how much you loved him. The feelings of rejection and a possible outcome where it can ruin an already beautiful friendship was all they could think of. The feelings stayed bottled inside as though every touch and every bonding experience only intensified the feelings felt deep within.

One night, as you guys finally had a sleepover, now both in freshman year of high school — you broke a news that hurt him completely. Your father had been given the opportunity to work abroad, meaning you had to leave for an year or two. That meant, leaving Ollie who was suffering yet again in quiet.

As you broke the news to him, you watched as he began to tear up. He was never afraid to cry in front of you, and you never belittled him, he was important and he made you feel comfort more than anything in the world.

“Whe-When?” he whispered, his heart felt as it stopped beating. He wished then, that when they had done surgery on his heart they made the option of feeling anything go away. His heart began to throb in such an agonizing way, he began to breathe heavily.

You wrapped your arms around him, never letting him go. That night as you cried into each others arms, you made another promise. One that was going to haunt you forever.

“Hey doofus,” you said sadly. Your heart breaking when he sniffled yet he hummed, acknowledging you. “Promise you will never forget me.”

Ollie pulled away, his tears running his pale cheeks, “How can I?”

You placed a hand on his cheek. Perhaps both of you were too young to understand how the universe worked but you knew your heart best, and down beneath all the doubt, you knew that it will always belong to Ollie.

Ollie leaned towards your palm, his eyes watching you. At 14, both of you felt the first heartbreak. And two days later, as he watched your parents drive you away from him, he cried like never before. The one thing that held him strong, and stopped all the thoughts in his head that called him useless, unwanted, a disgrace.

Ollie Hide, began to change. He lied in every text message he sent you, every video he sent you, he lied. He told you how sophomore year was amazing, and how many friends he had. He never once told you how they mocked him, the loner boy. The daddy’s boy from a weird dad.

He never once told you how he cried every night, and when he ended up in the hospital again due to stress. Rash, who noticed the symptoms, begged his father to check him in with a therapist. Ollie was silently begging to be seen again. His light was gone, you weren’t there to hold him, to distract him with your non stop rambles how the stars had a story.

You never doubted him. You never asked questions because you trusted him. He would never lie. However, Ollie from the good of his heart did not want to burden you. So he continued to lie, even when social media came for him and made him into a joke, he filmed videos of himself with a smile on his face.

You never doubted anything. But, Ollie… was not himself anymore. The longer the days went, the more his mental health declined. Rosa was gone, and it was as if every important person kept leaving him. His father deep lost in his work to avoid the issues at home never questioned him.

On the summer before Junior year, you had come back. You ran to his house and what you saw made you stop dead in your tracks. Ollie had grown out his hair, and what was his neutral, warm colored clothes, was now all in dark. His eyes had lost the shine, the spark that you had fallen for. In his eyes, he was dead, the eyebags were visible.

“Ollie?” you whispered, unsure.

He turned around slowly, refusing to believe you were there. There you stood, in your hands held a gift for him and you were beautiful. His eyes scanned you, his heart beating fast.

“Y/n?” Ollie questioned, his steps stumbling towards you before he ran towards you where he wrapped you into his arms. You began to sob as you tighten your hands around him.

“I’ve missed you.”

You laughed as tears rolled down your cheeks, “I have missed you doofus!”

“Yo! Ollie! Come on.”

You raised your head from his chest, noticing a boy standing a couple feet away. This boy gave your heart a tug, like a piercing sharp pain gutted you. He raised all the flags in your head.

Ollie swallowed, letting you go, he slightly smiled. You knew better, this smile was fake.

“I’ve gotta go, I’ll see you later?” Ollie asked, he was walking backwards, his eyes avoided yours now. You began to question his behavior, his appearance, where was the Ollie from a year and a half go?

You only nodded, your throat constricting. He left, his steps stomping on your confused heart. Something was wrong and you did not know what it was. Yet, you knew if there was something, Ollie would tell you. He never lied to you.

The summer ended, and you hardly saw him. There was always a different excuse, but you knew. Rob was always in the picture, and whatever he did, murdered the kind, pure heart your bestfriend carried.

“I don’t know why you can’t see it Ollie!” you screamed at him one afternoon after school. You only watched Ollie as he bit into his nail, his hand rubbing his neck in anxiety.

“See what? I don’t understand…” he spoke softly, igniting the fire you held inside. You were angry over the fact your bestfriend was changing and he himself could not see it.

You sighed annoyed, and you began to laugh in disbelief, “How?! How can you not see what’s going on?! You haven’t spoken to me all summer! You barely even acknowledge me!”

Ollie bit the inner skin of his cheek, his heart breaking. He couldn’t harm you, he couldn’t make you a target. He did not want the bullying to get to you just because you were his friend. You did not deserve that. You deserved more. You were more important than his needs. He needed you. He needed to tell you, to yell how much he loved you. How every letter, every photo you guys together he kept in a box where he could go through every night before bed and wonder what could be.

He did what he knew best, avoided the situation. “You know nothing Y/n. Please go home.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, disappointed, hurt and sadness swallowing your heart, you stepped away from him.

“You promised Ollie,” you reminded him. A tear finally slipping out your socket.

He looked down, he bounced on his feet, the anxiety eating him. He never once made eye contact, knowing that if he did, he would never let go.

“I’m keeping a promise,” he muttered, “So please, leave me alone.”

He turned and walked inside, leaving you outside with your second heartbreak and occuring non stop questions. Inside, Ollie slid down towards the floor, he began to sob. He was going to protect you with all he could. That was the promise he made to himself.

You never found out about the bullying Ollie suffered, and it was a shock. But, it also didn’t help that you avoided the shadowed boy. You stuck to yourself, ears plugged in as music blasted through them.

On a cloudy day, you went to your class. Natalia, who was a friend you met through Ollie two years ago, laughed about something funny she saw on a tv show. You feigned a laugh, your eyes scanning for a certain boy. Enough was enough.

You were going to snap some sense into Ollie, whether he liked it or not, but you were not going to lose him. As you settled in class, you forgot about Ollie, immersed into the debate your classmates were going through.

You pulled out your phone and sneakily, sent a message to the one that held your heart.

I am not letting go Ollie. Meet me after school by the treehouse.

As you and Ollie built your friendship, you built new places to hang out, and that included an abandoned tree house you found one day as you walked through the woods. Ollie, being the kindest boy offered to check it out first. Since then, the treehouse was your secret hide out.

You never received a response. You knew he had gotten it though and so you hoped, this was going to change his way of acting. Class was peaceful, of course not without Jack making loud comments about the lesson that had your teacher rolling her eyes every two seconds.

As you giggled over the comment your teacher said you heard a loud bang. Loud bangings. You jumped, your classmates became silent then. You couldn’t hear anything then. Until, yelling and scared chatters hit your ears. Something was happening.

Your teacher smiled as she kept the peace, “Alright guys, it’s probably nothing, stay here. Let me check it out.”

A ping had arrived to your phone then and as you pulled your phone to check the notification, you heard the sounds of glass shattering. You turned to look at Natalia who held the same expression you held — fear. This was a shooting.

Your teacher acted fast, she moved in a way you never seen her act before. She commanded the class to move underneath the desks, away from the windows that overlooked into the classroom. She shut the windows closed and had every single one of you quiet down.

You held onto Natalia’s hand, the fear reaching your ears as you began to hear the thumps of your heart. What felt like an eternity, you begged to be given a chance to see your family again, you did not want to die and not be given a opportunity to declare how much you loved Ollie Hide. You needed to tell him.

“We can run outside!” Jack whispered, panicked that no one was coming for them. Your teacher leaned against the door, watching over you all, her eyes trembling yet she never faltered.

“You stay there Jack! All of you!”

Jack began to mutter in fear, another round of bullets was heard. You began to go into a state of panic, your brain was beginning to go into a daze. Natalia hugged you, as she whispered something you did not understand.

All you could think of was Ollie. Was he okay? Did he make it outside? Did he survive? Is he hiding? As your brain wondered. Jack and your classmates ran outside, all of them swallowed by the fear of dying if they stayed in the classroom. Your teacher shouted, her voice was ignored.

“Stay here girls, please don’t leave until someone comes to get you. Promise me?”

“Don’t go!” Natalia shouted, “You can be killed!”

Your teacher who you admired, and you found to have been the kindest to help you out when you needed it, smiled. A tear slipped her eye, “I have to try and save as much as I can — stay here okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

It was as if, promises were meant to break.

As you and Natalia hid underneath the piles of chairs and desks, you heard screams closer than usual and multiple shots. You knew better than to be hopeful. Your classmates, ones you were joking with earlier that day, some of them were never going to graduate high school. They will never be parents, or have a dream come true, they will never ever know the pain of loss, or the feeling of loving someone so hard they forget the world spins. They will never have a chance to live.

You released a shaky breath as you held onto your friend. Your brain going over a prayer. If you make it out alive you were going to punch Ollie in the face and kiss him. You will make every moment worth it.

As you say there, you heard the door open. You closed your eyes, leaning your head towards Natalia. If you were going to die, you will die recalling a memory you treasured the most.

“Ollie?” you whispered one night, your voice quiet as both of you hid under the house you built out of blankets. At a distance you heard David arguing with Rosa again.

Ollie swallowed, his breath coming out in shaky wisps.

“Yeah?”

“When we’re older, promise we will still be friends?”

Ollie smiled into the shadows of the dark, he pulled you close, his skinny hand ruffling your hair as he released a sad chuckle, “You will never get rid of me.”

When you heard nothing but the gasp of your friend, you opened your eyes. You recalled that promise, your heart breaking in tiny pieces as you faced the barrel of the gun. Your eyes met with a certain pair that never failed to make you feel flutters in your stomach.

As Ollie, your best friend, your first love, held the gun with tears in his eyes, you released the first sound since the first gun shot. A loud sob.

Ollie looked at you and then at Natalia. You were sobbing now, your hands covering your mouth as you took him in. Your funny, bright bestfriend who joked about the smallest things, and looked after everyone than himself.

The gun didn’t fit him, he wasn’t the shooter. You refused to believe that. Ollie squeezed his eyes and when he reopened them, he looked different. You did not know who he was.

“Clear?!” Rob screamed from across the hall. Ollie said nothing before he shouted back.

“Clear!”

You scrambled to reach him, Natalia held you back. Ollie looked back at you, his eyes dark, lost. He was warning you to stay back. You choked on a sob again as you watched him go, his white sneakers filled with blood. You catched a glimpse at Rob, covered in blood, who said something and left to go the opposite direction.

You refused Natalia’s hold, “I have to get him! It can’t be him Nat…”

“You’re gonna be killed if you go y/n! You can’t go.”

You cried, “I have to try, that’s my bestfriend Nat… I can’t loose him.”

Your feet moved on its own as you ran down the hall towards the staircase, your mind blocking the scattered bodies of your classmates, you refused to believe it was real. It was a dream, you kept repeating.

Your feet hurt as you ran, but you needed to save him. You needed to get to Ollie. As soon as your feet crossed the door to the staircase you heard sobbing, mutters that were in gibberish. You had found him.

“Ollie…” you whispered.

Ollie gasped as he stood up. He began to shake his head, his muttering becoming more unstable, you could not understand him. You stepped closer as he put out a hand, his other hand loosely held onto the shotgun.

“Please… Please save me.”

You cried as you stepped closer, another step closer to reaching him.

“Take it Y/n… please. I can’t…. I don’t… I’m scared. I can’t die…”

Ollie finally looked at you, his eyes filled to the brim with tears, your heart broke once again. Your bestfriend, your first love, lost in his pain.

“Give me the gun Ollie…”

As he was handing you the gun, you heard the rushed steps of feet running up the stairs. The fear you held began to boil again. Finding yourself locking eyes with Rob, who held nothing but anger in his eyes, you didn’t realize the panic Ollie’s eyes went through.

Rob wasted no time but to shoot, and you were too late to run behind the door. The bullet shot through your lower stomach. At first you felt as you fell into a large comforter, and then you saw a flash of white. What you felt next was something that left you wheezing in non stop pain, the bullet has implanted itself in you. Your life was slipping and you just felt regret.

You recalled every promise you made with Ollie. The moments you had with your parents, and your friends. The laughter you shared with them, the cries you gave even if it was over a silly thing. All these memories and emotions flew through, and as you laid on the floor, wheezing through the pain, your heart slowing down one beat at a time. Your hand reached over to Ollie’s. You couldn’t find him, just how you couldn’t find the pain he was going through.

Ollie fought with Rob, and he almost won, if it wasn’t for the rail that threw him over the staircase. He just had one thought, what could have been if only he spoke with honesty of what he was feeling.

As both of you laid in different parts, the life slipping away from your fingers. Your heart’s beated slowly together, as if it was reuniting one last time. And for a moment it did, because the moment you allowed the white cloud wrap around you, Ollie smiled as he felt the warmth of your laugh wrap around him.

The two teenagers were rushed to the hospital, Natalia cried as she ran with you both. She was not going to reveal what had happened. She couldn’t, she knew and believed Ollie was not evil but she also couldn’t hurt you.

As nurses and doctors rushed to work in bringing your hearts back to life, the teenagers that laid in different rooms felt the soul bond loosened. The nurses spoke in sadness how the hands laid loosely over the bed, as if they searched for each other.

As Rash, the doctor that bonded with Ollie more than anyone, worked on a CPR on Ollie, he watched with tears in his eyes how neither of you responded. The dead line on the screen mocking him. And finally, after minutes, the line curved slightly.

The doctors that worked with you, all screamed in relief as you also responded back to life. Rash knew, just as with how Ollie talked of you, both of you were soulmates. He knew that nothing, not even death was going to rip both of you apart.

You had gained another chance at life, and you knew you were going to make every second of it count.

Natalia who watched as one came to live, then the other, sobbed loudly. Her mother wrapped her into her arms. Natalia had decided then, she was never going to reveal Ollie as the one shooter and as another classmate that survived was alive and responding, he recalled of the horrors that happened.

He spoke of the shooters, how he saw one shoot through his friends with no remorse screaming how they deserved it, and the other, the quiet boy who shoved the extra bullets into his pockets and shot through the walls instead. His eyes blinking away the tears that fell.

As the sun peeked through the windows, a chance to recover the lost time. To fix what was broken, was edging you awake. You woke up groggy, moaning that the sun was too bright. As you rolled over you found the mop of curly hair by your side.

You got up confused, till you realized it was a dream you had. You believed in the signs, warnings, how the universe will warn you of these butterfly effects. Since you had come back to town, you noticed the changes that your best friend has been going through.

You knew then, what could happen, whether it’s death or not, be prevented. As you reached over and laid a hand on the pale cheek of your bestfriend who softly snored away, you made a new promise.

“I will guard you with my life, and I promise to show you life is worth living.”

ollie nation tag list: @hxtd @mckennah123 @cieraerickson8 @oroborosfeast

natties angels permanent list: @yohanseyebrowmole @mthrgs29

[fp-am]

Ok I normally don’t write lazy oneshots in Tumblr posts but I had this idea

What if, during Green’s little evil arc, the gang just talked to Alan?

(And Green and Alan have to have a talk)

Lazy Oneshot under the cut.

*Green walks into Alan’s drawing program. It’s pretty awkward after the CG told him off. Alan is animating.*

Alan: Hey, Green.

Green (awkwardly): ..hey.

Alan: Have a seat.

*hesitantly, Green sits.*

Alan: So, you have a YouTube channel now. Is that correct?

Green: ..yeah?

Alan: That’s great! How’s it been doing?

Green (a bit surprised): It’s been really good! I’ve been gaining a lot of traction recently! I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it yet.

Alan: I see. Well, I’ve been watching your videos.

Green: Really?! They’re great, right?! I already know they are..

Alan: ..I’ve been watching your videos, and I have to say that your more recent ones are.. *he wholeheartedly chuckles, then laughs*.. they’re terrible!

Green(shocked): W-WHAT?!

Alan: Yeah! They’re bad! I can barely get through one. Too much editing, too much energy, it’s overwhelming.

Green (defensive): W-Well! That’s just you! My viewers love it! I know it! I read my comments!

Alan: Really now? Let’s go through them together then.

*Alan pulls up a tab with one of Green’s recent videos, pauses the video, and scrolls down to the comments. They appear positive.*

Green: Hah! See? They love me and the videos I put out!

Alan: Mhm. Let’s go a little further.

*as he scrolls, the comments get more negative and get more criticism”

Alan: There.

Green: Well.. there’s a reason they’re at the bottom! They’re wrong. Haters!

Alan: They’re not hating. They’re giving you feedback. Here’s a good one. Ahem.. “Green, good video, but everything seems a little off. All the extra editing is really headache inducing, and your friends seem distant. Can you please go back to real moments with your friends?”

Green: They’re just being negative to be negative.

Alan: They’re giving you advice and recommendations. I can tell, just by your attitude, that you avoid these on purpose, and that’s not a good thing to be doing.

Green: …

Alan: Not to mention, the only reason you’re doing YouTube is for the traction your videos bring in. That’s not what this job is about.

Green: Then what is it about, huh? How would you know?!

Alan: It’s about doing what you like. I would know, because I have 28 million subscribers.

Green: We- WHAT?! No you don’t! You’re lying!

*Nonchalantly, Alan pulls up his channel.*

Green: ALAN? WH- Why have you never brought this up before?!

Alan: Because I don’t feel the need to brag, which is apparently something you do a lot, according to your friends.

Green: But.. I don’t.. I’m..

Alan: Listen, Green. I get it. YouTube is exciting, don’t get me wrong, it can lead you to some pretty exciting places. But, when you start doing YouTube for the sake of fame, it loses its meaning.

A lot of YouTubers I’ve witnessed the growth of over the years have taken the route you’re going down right now. Exploiting their audiences and staff to produce cheap videos that get them views, likes, and money. That’s all this platform is to them. A way to get eyes on you. A lot of times? That leads to controversy, injury, and a terrible life.

I saw your earlier videos. They were good, Green! You put love into them. That’s the most important thing that your new videos lack. You’re trying to produce content that catches people’s attention, flashy meaningless junk that’s soulless. I would be a bad caretaker and fellow content creator if I just let you go down that route. So I have to tell you to take a step back.

In sorry for being harsh, but if I wasn’t, you wouldn’t listen. The thing is, the people that genuinely like the real content you put out will stay. The rest won’t, and that’s life. You just have to find those people.

Do you understand?

Green: I’m.. yeah. ..yeah. Thank you, Alan. And.. I’m sorry.

Alan: You’re alright. Now, go talk to your friends. I’m sure an apology is way overdue.

:3

[cher-rei]

Can I request a Jamal fic where the reader is his girlfriend but she’s an interviewer and she’s tasked to interview him and he tries to distract her and make her laugh the whole time when she’s supposed to stay professional.

man of the match– jamal musiala [ J.M ]

I thought that I was dreaming, when you said you loved me [ivy— frank ocean]

pairing: jamal musiala x fem!reader

summary: composure on camera?? what even it that?

genre(s): fluff

[w.c: 806] masterlist

notes: I wrote this in like 30 minutes help

the stadium's thunderous applause enveloped jamal as he accepted his man of the match trophy, his eyes shining with pride. you, with your mic in hand, stepped forward, professional smile faltering for a moment when your eyes met.

this wasn't the first time that you were tasked to interview your boyfriend, and it definitely won't be the last. but whenever you caught him on the pitch for a quick word for the camera, he couldn't stop the smile that crept onto his lips. it was just another reason to tease you, and he found it difficult to not lose himself in your eyes.

and today wasn't any different.

“jamal, congratulations on an incredible performance! would you care to take us through your thoughts on today's match?” you asked, your voice carrying over the din and for a moment he didn't answer.

he just stood there, trophy in hand with a smile that was all too contagious for your liking. it was as if he was mapping your features that he's more than familiar with, but he would never get sick of it. his dazed gaze travelled from your glistening eyes, to your flush cheeks under the stadium lights.

when you realized what was happening you cleared your throat and kicked his leg, thankful that it was out of frame. he jolted up, recollecting his thoughts with a bashful laugh.

“thank you! I think the team played amazingly. and I'm not just saying that because i got the award today,” he chuckled and you felt your smile deepening with a fond warmness.

as you continued with the questioning, jamal's mischief began to surface. he playfully examined the award, pretending to admire his reflection in the it's shiny surface.

“do you think I should get a haircut? this trophy makes my hair look weird,” he joked, running a hand through his locks.

you blinked up at him for a moment, a confused hum leaving your lips as you looked back to the camera but when you looked back at jamal, he was gesturing the award in your direction— your reflection clearly showing, which made him coo in awe.

your eyes sparkled, lips twitching but you had to remain composed. “j, focus please.”

the footballer feigned innocence, putting a hand on his chest in mock offense. “what? I'm just making sure that I look good for the cameras.”

the surrounding cameramen and interviewers couldn't help but laugh at his charming response, and your composure began to slip.

you sighed. “okay, let's try again. what was going through your mind during that stunning goal?”

jamal's expression turned thoughtful, but only for a moment, which gave you hope thay you'd get a proper answer this time around. “actually, I was thinking that you were going to kill me if I don't give you a good interview.”

your face flushed and your eyes darted around the stadium before returning to your boyfriend was visibly pleased with how riled up he was getting you. he wasn't going to hear the end of it on the ride home but he didn't care because what did you expect?

“you're impossible,” you muttered, causing the nearby operators and journalists to snicker, drawn in by the lighthearted banter.

you had to continue though, regardless of jamal's unseriousness. “and what about the team's strategy for the next match?”

jamal leaned in at the question,conspiratorial whisper escaping his lips. “I'll tell you a secret. we're going to…” he leaned in, pausing ever so subtly which had you leaning in out of genuine curiosity, his answer exciting you. “...play really well!”

this boy.

the crowd erupted into laughter, and you playfully rolled your eyes. “thanks jamal, that was really enlightening.”

as the interview concluded, you did get a few good answers and comments out of him and he handed you his award, his fingers brushing against yours. “hold this for me please, love. I need to get my phone out.”

your heart leapt at the term of endearment that he nonchalantly let slip, the flush on your cheeks earning a laugh from your boyfriend who was more than delighted you have you this shy in public.

still, jamal wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you in closer for the picture. there was nothing to do but oblige, so you held the award close and smiled warmly. the camera flash from the photographers went off as well to illuminated your beaming smiles as you posted together.

your laughter lingered, along with his arm around your waist. the stadium was captivated with the chemistry between the two of you, a comfortable atmosphere settling around the two of you as you went though the pictures.

when everything was over you hopped onto your tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss onto your boyfriend's cheek. “well done, baby. you were amazing today.”

it was jamal's turn to be a blushing mess, his legs nearly giving in on him at the sudden affectionate gesture. you clapped your hands in triumph, turning quickly to look at the cameramen in front of you.

“yes! did you get that on camera?”

[lila-lou]

✨Rough around the edges - Pt. 3✨

Summary: Jack's day couldn’t have gotten any worse. Exhausted from a grueling shift under the scorching sun, he just wanted to crash at home with some wings and a football game. But his plans for a quiet night were shattered when the racket from his new neighbor echoed through the walls.

Pairing: Jack x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! just a little smutty, Language, age gap, angst, violence

Word Count: 6085

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

“Look… if you ever need anything”, Jack began, his voice quieter now, almost unsure, “you know where to find me. I mean, we live right across from each other, so… just knock”.

You blinked in surprise, not expecting the offer, but you smiled warmly. “I’ll keep that in mind, Jack. Thanks”.

As you disappeared inside, Jack let out a slow breath, leaning back in his seat. He wasn’t sure what to make of it all—the conversation, the connection, the way you had made him feel a little less closed off. He hadn’t expected to find himself here, feeling… something again. But there it was, stirring quietly beneath the surface.

Eventually, with a shake of his head, Jack turned off the truck’s engine and stepped out into the cool night air. He locked the truck behind him and made his way toward the entrance of the building, his boots echoing softly on the pavement. The conversation he’d had with you lingered in his mind, uncomfortably and yet pleasantly. He hadn’t planned on opening up, hadn’t expected to feel anything tonight other than his usual exhaustion, but somehow you had broken through his defenses without even trying.

As he reached the door, he paused for a moment, looking up at the soft glow of the apartment windows above. Your apartment was only a few feet away from his, and knowing that made everything feel strangely closer, more intimate. He had always been a man of habit—quiet, keeping to himself—but tonight had shifted something. He wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad yet.

Jack trudged up the stairs and down the hallway toward his apartment, his mind still tangled in thoughts of you. He had spent so long shutting people out, letting the hurt and bitterness from his past fester, that he had forgotten what it was like to have a real connection with someone. And while it hadn’t been anything profound tonight, just a shared car ride and some honest conversation, it had still shaken something loose in him.

Reaching his door, Jack unlocked it and stepped inside, the familiar stillness greeting him. He tossed his keys onto the counter, kicked off his boots, and leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment, staring into the dimly lit room. The silence that he usually found comforting now felt oddly heavy, as though it were pressing down on him, reminding him of just how alone he’d been.

He let out a long breath and rubbed his hand over his face. What the hell is happening to me? he thought. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way, wasn’t supposed to care. And yet, there it was—a growing awareness that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to keep living in his little bubble of solitude forever.

With a tired sigh, Jack grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped it open, and took a long drink. As he sat down on the worn-out couch, his mind kept circling back to you—your laugh, the way you looked at him with genuine interest, the way you had thanked him for a ride that he had felt compelled to offer. It was nothing, really. But it also felt like something.

Jack leaned his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He had no idea where things were going with you—if anywhere—but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like shutting the door completely.

And that was enough for tonight.

In your apartment, the buzz from the night had started to catch up with you. The warmth from the drinks and the lingering scent of Jack’s cologne seemed to ignite something in you, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. After a few moments of stumbling around your bedroom, you began to strip off your clothes, leaving only your panties on.

The sensation of the fabric clinging to you was damp and uncomfortable, and you realized it was more than just the cold. The remnants of the night and the proximity to Jack had stirred something inside you, something physical and undeniable. The combination of his presence, his scent, and the intimacy of the conversation had left you feeling an unexpected longing.

You settled onto your bed, the cool sheets meeting your heated skin. Your thoughts drifted back, to the way Jack’s hand had steadied you, the deep timbre of his voice, and the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne that had lingered on you. You hadn't been with anyone in months, and the desire that had sparked tonight was both startling and intense. The alcohol in your system made everything feel a bit more vivid, a bit more pressing.

As you lay there, trying to find some semblance of comfort, your mind replayed the moments from the truck—the casual way Jack had offered you a ride, the genuine concern in his voice, the unexpected connection you’d felt. Even in your tipsy state, you recognized that the attraction you felt was more than just physical. It was a mix of loneliness, desire, and the craving for something real.

You shifted restlessly, the fabric of your panties feeling almost restrictive. Your body ached for more, driven by the intimacy of the night and the raw, unfiltered emotions that came with it. The sense of isolation you had been trying to escape seemed to merge with the physical need you felt, making it all the more intense.

Your thoughts about Jack and the connection you felt were a heady mix of excitement and confusion. You hadn’t expected any of this to happen—hadn’t planned on feeling this way about him. But now, with the night stretching out before you and the warmth of his scent still clinging to you, it was hard to ignore the raw, primal feelings that had surfaced.

In the quiet of your room, with only the soft hum of city sounds coming through the window, you found yourself grappling with these newfound sensations, caught between the lingering effects of the evening and the deep-seated desires that had been stirred up.

As you lay there, the room felt quiet and intimate, a stark contrast to the bustling bar and the late-night conversation you’d shared with Jack. Your thoughts were a tangle of lingering attraction and physical need.

With a restless sigh, your hand found its way to your stomach, slowly slipping inside your panties. The sensation of your own touch sent a shiver through you, intensifying the feelings that had been simmering since your time in Jack’s truck. You were acutely aware of the dampness between your legs, a tangible reminder of the excitement that had built up during the evening.

As your fingers began to explore, you let out a soft, shaky breath. The gentle pressure you applied felt both comforting and electrifying, and you found yourself lost in the sensation. The contrast between the cool fabric of your panties and the warmth of your skin was a constant reminder of the physical desire that had been awakened.

Your mind wandered back to Jack—the way he had looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, the faint scent of his cologne. The combination of the physical sensations and the emotional undercurrents from the night made everything feel more intense, more urgent.

You continued to touch yourself, the movements slow and deliberate, driven by the lingering memory of Jack’s presence and the deep-seated need that had taken hold of you. Each caress and gentle pressure heightened your awareness of the feelings coursing through you, blending the physical pleasure with the emotional complexity of the evening.

The quiet of the night wrapped around you, making the moment feel intensely personal and private. As you continued, the feelings of arousal and longing became more pronounced.

As the intensity of your touch increased, your moans grew louder, the sound carrying through the quiet of your apartment. Unaware of how audible you were, you were completely immersed in the moment, your senses heightened by the alcohol and the lingering thoughts of Jack.

Meanwhile, Jack, unable to sleep and still winding down from the night, was sitting in his living room. He was idly scrolling through his phone with a beer in hand, trying to distract himself from the thoughts of you and the conversation you both had shared. The quiet of the night amplified the noises in the building, and it wasn't long before he heard the unmistakable sound of your moans coming through the wall.

His finger paused on the screen of his phone, and his breath hitched. The sound was soft but distinct, stirring something within him that he had been trying to suppress. For a moment, he sat frozen, the reality of what he was hearing sinking in. His heart raced, and a rush of unexpected emotions clouded his judgment.

The sounds from your apartment painted a vivid picture that Jack couldn’t ignore. He tried to focus on his phone, tried to pull his mind away from what was happening so nearby, but the sounds of your pleasure were insistent, pulling him deeper into a turmoil of arousal and confusion.

The part of him that wanted to stand up, to distance himself from the wall that was the only barrier between him and the source of those sounds, battled with the part that was captivated, drawn to the intimacy of the moment despite himself. Jack knew he should move away, go to another room, put on some music—anything to drown out the sounds that were all too clear and much too close.

But he remained seated, his body tense, his mind racing. The sounds of your moans mingled with the memories of the evening—the look in your eyes, the sound of your laugh, the way you had looked at him as you thanked him for the ride home.

Jack took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts whirling through his mind. His eyes closed for a moment, a futile attempt to shut out the auditory invasion that stirred him so deeply. But with each soft moan that filtered through the wall, Jack found himself less able to deny the attraction, the undeniable pull that he felt toward you.

As the realization settled in that he was not going to be able to ignore or escape the situation so easily, Jack set his phone down, his last attempt to distract himself abandoned. He sat there, listening, caught in the tension between his own loneliness and the unexpected connection that seemed to be taking root in the most unexpected of ways.

As the sounds from your apartment continued, Jack felt his resolve crumbling. The moans—soft yet insistent—penetrated through the walls, and despite his best efforts to focus on anything else, his body began to react involuntarily.

He shifted in his seat, the growing pressure in his jeans becoming uncomfortable. His breathing grew uneven as he tried to maintain control, but the sounds were relentless, stirring a deep-seated desire that he hadn’t anticipated. The reality of his own arousal hit him hard, a stark contrast to the internal struggle he’d been wrestling with since your chance encounter.

Jack’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as he fought to keep his composure. The image of you, the warmth of the truck, the conversation—it all swirled together in a confusing blend of longing and regret.

Jack’s resolve continued to deteriorate as the sounds from your apartment grew more insistent. His breathing became ragged, and despite his best efforts to maintain control, he found himself unable to ignore the sensations building inside him. The pressure in his pants was becoming too uncomfortable to ignore, and as much as he fought it, his body was betraying him.

In a moment of weakness, his hand moved almost instinctively, unfastening the buckle and pulling down the zipper of his jeans. He tried to fight it, to regain some semblance of control, but the need was overpowering. His mind raced, torn between the escalating arousal and the guilt of what he was doing.

His hand, now trembling slightly, reached inside his jeans, feeling the heat of his own arousal.

Overwhelmed by the flood of emotions and physical responses, Jack finally succumbed to his urges. He pushed down his jeans and boxers, seeking relief from the intense pressure and heat that had built up within him. Alone in the dim light of his living room, Jack was torn between self-reproach for yielding to his desires and the undeniable relief that came with acknowledging them.

His actions were hurried, almost desperate, as he tried to quiet the turmoil swirling in his mind—the guilt, the loneliness, the undeniable attraction to someone so close yet so far in many ways. Each sound from across the wall seemed to amplify his actions, intertwining his reality with the imagined closeness of you, heightening his sense of isolation when he most craved connection.

As Jack began to move his hand, he closed his eyes, allowing his imagination to take over in an effort to distract from his inner turmoil. The sounds from your apartment—faint but unmistakable—fed into his fantasies, painting vivid scenes in his mind. He imagined you, just across the wall, caught in a similar moment of vulnerability and desire.

In his mind’s eye, Jack saw you lying in your bed, a mere echo of reality blending with his imagination, driven by the sounds that had inadvertently bridged the gap between your separate lives. He pictured the way you might arch your back, the soft sighs escape your lips, each detail adding to the intensity of his own actions.

The mental images served as both a balm and an accelerant, soothing his loneliness while simultaneously driving his desire to new heights. His movements became more deliberate, syncing with the rhythm of the muffled sounds that continued to filter through the walls, as if he and you were connected by more than just proximity, sharing a moment of escapism from the solitude that usually enveloped his nights.

As Jack’s hand moved rhythmically, the fantasy in his mind became almost tangible, blurring the lines between reality and imagination. The sounds from your apartment—the soft, intermittent noises that seemed almost in response to his own actions—intensified the experience. It felt as though you were not just a figment of his imagination but a real participant in this shared moment of vulnerability and release.

Jack’s breathing grew heavier, and his heart raced as he approached the edge. The fantasy of you, so vivid and detailed, pushed him closer to climax. The imagined sounds of your pleasure, the visual of your body responding in kind to his own actions, heightened his arousal to its peak.

Meanwhile, the faint but distinct rhythm of a bed, the soft moans that matched the intensity of Jack’s own breaths—everything pointed to a parallel journey you were undertaking behind the wall that separated you.

The isolation that typically enveloped Jack’s nights was momentarily lifted as he felt an intimate, though unspoken, connection with you. In this late hour, the walls of your apartments felt thinner than ever, as if the physical and emotional distance had collapsed under the weight of shared human needs and desires.

Finally, as Jack reached the brink, the intensity of his fantasy coupled with the real sounds from your apartment brought him to a powerful, almost overwhelming climax. As he came, his mind was filled with the image of you experiencing the same release, a thought that made his moment of solitude feel less lonely.

Another week passed, and the memory of that night had faded into the background, though it occasionally resurfaced in Jack’s mind during the quieter moments. He had kept himself busy with work, the usual routine of long hours and physical labor serving as a distraction from the thoughts that threatened to surface whenever he allowed his mind to wander.

It was Friday morning, and Jack stepped out of his apartment, coffee in hand and his work bag slung over his shoulder, ready to head to the site. Just as he closed his door, he heard the familiar creak of your door opening across the hall.

For the first time since that night at the bar, your eyes met.

You stepped outside, your face lighting up with a surprised smile when you saw him. There was an undeniable moment of recognition, though neither of you acknowledged it outright. It wasn’t just the memory of the bar, but something unspoken, lingering between you.

"Morning", you said casually, pulling your jacket tighter around you as you prepared to leave.

"Morning", Jack replied, his voice gruff as usual, though there was a slight hesitation in his tone. He hadn’t expected to run into you like this, not after the last week of keeping to himself.

The silence between you stretched out for a second longer than it should have, both of you standing there, caught in the awkwardness of the moment. It wasn’t the same as before; there was something new hanging between you two. Jack, for all his efforts to bury it, couldn’t shake the vivid memory of that night and the connection he had felt, however fleeting or imagined.

You cleared your throat, breaking the silence. “Heading to work?”.

Jack nodded, lifting his coffee cup as if to emphasize the early start to the day. “Yeah. You?”.

You smiled, glancing down the hall as you locked your door. “Running some errands before work. Got a busy day ahead”.

There was a brief pause, as though both of you were searching for something else to say. Jack shifted slightly, unsure if he should bring up the night at the bar or just let things continue as they were—neighborly, but distant.

"About the other night", you started, surprising Jack. He looked at you, his brow furrowing slightly.

"What about it?", he asked, trying to gauge where you were going with this.

You hesitated for a moment, then gave a small laugh, waving it off. "I just wanted to thank you again for the ride. I had a bit too much to drink, I guess".

Jack shrugged, though he felt something stir inside him. "It was nothing. Just looking out for a neighbor".

You gave him a warm smile, the kind that made Jack feel like maybe, just maybe, there was something more to this connection between you. But before either of you could say anything more, the moment passed, and you both turned toward the stairwell, ready to go about your day.

"Have a good one", you said over your shoulder as you walked ahead.

"You too", Jack replied, his voice quieter, as he watched you disappear around the corner.

As Jack made his way to his truck, he couldn’t help but think about the unspoken tension between you two, the way your eyes had lingered on his for just a second longer than necessary. Something had shifted, and while neither of you had acknowledged it directly, Jack knew that things might never be quite the same.

At work, the sun beat down relentlessly as Jack and Anthony labored over the foundation of the new construction site. The heat was oppressive, and it wasn’t even midday yet, sweat already pouring off them as they moved heavy equipment and mixed concrete. Jack wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his shirt sticking to his back as he focused on the task at hand, trying to lose himself in the physical demands of the job.

Anthony, as usual, wasn’t one for silence. He shoved a wheelbarrow full of concrete into position and grinned over at Jack. “Man, this heat is brutal. Feels like I’m sweating out last weekend’s beer”.

Jack grunted, his mind elsewhere. Despite the distraction of work, he couldn’t completely shake the thoughts of his morning run-in with you. It had been such a simple interaction—just a few words exchanged as you both left the building—but it felt heavier, like there was more beneath the surface.

Anthony noticed Jack’s distant expression and raised an eyebrow. “Hey, you still with me, or are you lost in la-la land?”.

Jack shot him a sideways glance, shaking his head. “Just focused. This heat’ll kill us if we don’t pace ourselves”.

Anthony chuckled, though he wasn’t fooled by Jack’s attempt to deflect. “Yeah, sure. You’ve been off ever since we ran into your little neighbor last week at the bar. You finally make a move or what?”.

Jack groaned, grabbing a shovel to spread the concrete evenly. “I didn’t make a move, Anthony. We ran into each other this morning, that’s all”.

“Yeah? How’d that go?”, Anthony leaned on the handle of the wheelbarrow, clearly not letting the subject drop.

Jack hesitated, then shrugged, trying to make it seem like no big deal. “She thanked me for the ride home. That’s it”.

Anthony gave him a knowing look, shaking his head. “Man, I don’t know why you’re playing this all cool. You’ve been stuck in neutral for years. That girl’s giving you all the green lights, and you’re still sitting at the stop sign”.

Jack’s jaw tightened as he focused on his work, not wanting to dive into the conversation. Anthony wasn’t wrong, though. There was a tension between him and you, something unspoken that seemed to hang in the air every time he thought about you. But Jack wasn’t ready to confront whatever that was. Not yet, anyway.

“Look, I’m not getting involved with my neighbor”, Jack finally said, his tone firm but resigned. “Too complicated. Told you already”.

"You´re fucking afraid", Anthony chuckled.

Jack shot Anthony a sharp look, but his friend just grinned, clearly not backing down from his playful needling. Jack hated that Anthony was right—there was a part of him that was afraid to admit he was interested. It wasn’t just about you being his neighbor; it was everything that came with it. The messiness of relationships, the vulnerability, the risk of getting hurt again. Jack wasn’t sure if he had the energy or the will to go through that kind of emotional upheaval, even if there was something undeniably magnetic about you.

"I’m not afraid", Jack said gruffly, more to convince himself than Anthony.

Anthony wiped sweat from his brow, watching Jack closely. “Then what’s stopping you? Life’s too short to play it safe all the time, man. You’re gonna miss out on something good if you keep hiding behind excuses”.

Jack shook his head, frustrated, as he shoveled another pile of concrete. "It’s not that simple".

Anthony sighed, leaning on the shovel for a moment, his voice losing some of its teasing edge. "Jack, nothing's simple. You of all people know that. But you can’t just keep putting up walls. You’re stuck in neutral because you won’t let anyone in".

Jack stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the work in front of him. He didn’t want to admit how much Anthony’s words were hitting home. The truth was, Jack had been putting up walls for a long time, ever since his marriage fell apart. And every time he felt a connection—whether it was real or imagined—he’d push it down, shove it into a corner of his mind where he didn’t have to deal with it.

The thought of getting involved with you scared him because it was a risk. And Jack wasn’t sure if he was ready to gamble on something that could unravel him again.

But as the day wore on and the sun beat down, Jack couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind. The easy smile you’d given him that morning, the warmth in your eyes. There was something there, something real, and Jack was slowly realizing that pretending it wasn’t affecting him wasn’t going to work much longer.

Anthony finally broke the silence, his tone lighter again. “Well, you keep overthinking it, man. Meanwhile, I’m getting a beer after this and you’re welcome to join me if you want to stop brooding for a minute”.

Jack chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. "We’ll see".

Anthony grinned, sensing he’d made a small crack in Jack’s armor. “Good. You might need more than a beer to get out of your head, though”.

As they continued their work, Jack tried to focus, but the idea that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t need to keep his distance from you lingered in the back of his mind.

It was around 11 p.m. when Jack finally returned home from the bar, his footsteps a little slower than usual from the couple of beers he’d had with Anthony. The night air had cooled significantly, a stark contrast to the heat of the day. He reached into his pocket to fish out his keys, ready to call it a night, when something stopped him in his tracks.

Loud noises—thuds, crashes—came from your apartment. Jack froze, his instincts immediately on high alert. His hand gripped the key tightly as he stood still, listening closely. A second later, he heard what sounded like muffled screams, faint but unmistakable.

Jack’s blood ran cold.

He knew he should mind his own business, that you were an adult capable of handling your own life, but this was different. The sound of distress was too clear, too concerning. His hand moved from his door handle, and before he could talk himself out of it, he was crossing the hall toward your apartment, his heart pounding in his chest.

He stood at your door for a brief second, listening intently. Another crash, and this time, a louder, more desperate sound escaped from inside—something was definitely wrong. Without thinking, Jack banged his fist against the door.

“Hey! You alright in there?”, he shouted, his voice booming through the hallway.

There was no immediate answer, just more muffled noise. His pulse quickened, and he knocked harder, urgency taking over. “Y/N! Open the damn door!”.

Still no answer.

Without waiting for a response, Jack tried the door handle, fully prepared to break the door down if he had to. To his surprise, the door was unlocked, and it creaked open slightly. Jack pushed it open wider, stepping inside cautiously.

The apartment was dimly lit, but Jack could see signs of chaos—knocked-over furniture, papers scattered across the floor. His heart raced as he scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on you in the corner. You were struggling, your arms pinned, and a man loomed over you, his grip tight and menacing.

The sound of Jack entering the apartment caused the man to freeze, and he turned toward Jack with a snarl. Jack didn’t hesitate—his protective instincts kicked in immediately.

“Get off her!”, Jack barked, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped forward, ready to intervene. The man’s eyes widened for a split second, realizing he wasn’t alone, but he didn’t move. Jack took another step, his presence looming as he readied himself for whatever came next.

The man finally let go of you, shoving you aside roughly as he turned to face Jack. Without thinking, Jack lunged, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him against the wall with enough force to make him grunt in pain.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”, Jack growled, his face inches from the man’s.

The man struggled, trying to push Jack off, but Jack was too strong, too furious to back down. He held the man in place, his fists clenched and every muscle in his body tense.

“Get the fuck out. Now! Before i loose my shit”, Jack demanded, his voice cold and hard.

For a moment, it seemed like the man might fight back, but he thought better of it. Jack’s grip loosened just enough for the man to stumble away, glaring as he straightened himself. Without another word, the man stormed toward the door, slamming it behind him as he left.

The room fell silent, the chaos and tension still thick in the air. Jack stood there for a moment, his heart still racing, before turning his attention to you. You were huddled on the floor, trembling and trying to catch your breath, your face a mix of fear and relief.

“Y/N”, Jack said softly, moving toward you carefully. “You okay?”.

You nodded shakily, though it was clear you were still in shock. Jack crouched down beside you, his protective instincts still in overdrive.

“Who was that? Do I need to call the cops?”, Jack asked, his voice gentle but firm.

You shook your head, your voice hoarse when you finally spoke. “No… no, he’s gone now. It was just… my ex. He wasn’t supposed to be here”.

Jack clenched his jaw, anger still simmering beneath the surface. “You’re sure you’re okay?”.

You nodded again, though your body language told a different story. Jack’s eyes softened as he reached out, offering you his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here for a bit”, he said quietly. “You don’t have to stay here tonight”.

You hesitated for a moment, clearly shaken and unsure, but then you took Jack’s hand, letting him help you to your feet. As you stood, the dim light in the apartment revealed more than Jack had anticipated. His eyes immediately went to the bruises on your arms—faint but unmistakable fingerprints marking your skin. Worse still was the cut on your lower lip, swollen and fresh. Jack’s blood boiled all over again, the anger from moments ago threatening to resurface.

“Damn it”, Jack muttered under his breath, his hand tightening slightly around yours as he guided you toward the door. He could feel the tension in his muscles, the barely contained rage at the thought of what had just happened. He wanted to go after the guy, make sure he never came near you again, but for now, his priority was getting you out of there.

You noticed Jack’s reaction, your eyes flickering down to your arms, and you quickly pulled them away, crossing them in front of your chest defensively, as if trying to hide the evidence of the assault. “It’s fine”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “He’s gone. It’s over”.

Jack stopped just inside the doorway, turning to face you. "It’s not fine", he said firmly, his voice low but filled with concern. "Look at you".

Your eyes welled with tears, but you blinked them away quickly, unwilling to break down in front of him. "I’ll be okay. I just… I didn’t expect him to show up. I thought he was done. I didn’t think—". You stopped, your voice catching in your throat.

Jack stepped closer, his voice softer now. "You don’t have to explain. But you shouldn’t stay here tonight. Let me help, even if it’s just for tonight".

You stared at him for a moment, weighing the options in your head. You didn’t want to impose, didn’t want to seem weak or incapable. But the truth was, the fear still gripped you, and the thought of staying in your apartment, alone, after what had just happened, was unbearable.

"Okay", you finally said, your voice barely a whisper.

Jack nodded, relieved that you weren’t going to argue. He placed a steady hand on the small of your back and guided you out of the apartment. He made sure to lock your door behind you, not that it offered much comfort given what had just transpired.

"Let’s go to my place for now", Jack said, his voice calm and reassuring. "You can stay there tonight, and we’ll figure everything out in the morning".

You gave him a small nod, too tired and shaken to think about anything beyond the immediate moment.

As you stepped into Jack’s apartment, the warmth and quiet of the space enveloped you. It felt safe. Jack led you to the couch, gesturing for you to sit. "I’ll get you some water", he said, disappearing into the kitchen.

While he was gone, you sat on the couch, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Your ex showing up had been a shock—a terrifying reminder of a chapter you thought you had closed. The bruises on your arms stung, but not nearly as much as the emotional weight of it all. You hadn’t wanted to seem weak, hadn’t wanted to involve anyone else, but Jack had been there. He had seen everything.

Jack returned with a glass of water and a first aid kit, setting them both down on the coffee table. “Drink”, he said gently, nodding toward the glass. “And let me take a look at your lip”.

You hesitated for a moment but then reached for the glass, taking a small sip. Jack knelt in front of you, opening the first aid kit and carefully taking out some antiseptic wipes. He met your eyes for a brief second, silently asking for permission before he gently dabbed the cut on your lip.

You winced slightly, but the pain was dulled by the tenderness in his actions.

"Sorry", Jack muttered softly. “I just want to make sure it doesn’t get worse”.

You nodded, grateful for his care despite the situation. For the first time in what felt like hours, you allowed yourself to relax, knowing that, at least for tonight, you didn’t have to handle this alone.

As Jack continued to clean up the cut, his brow furrowed with concentration, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. He had stepped in without hesitation, protected you without a second thought. And now, as he knelt there, carefully tending to your injuries, you realized just how much you needed that.

Jack continued his careful work, his hands steady as he cleaned the small wound on your lip. Despite the roughness of the situation, his touch was gentle, his eyes focused on making sure you were okay. You watched him, feeling a mix of emotions—gratitude, relief, and something else, something softer that you couldn’t quite name.

Once he finished, Jack stood and tossed the used antiseptic wipe into the trash, his movements deliberate, almost as if he was trying to keep his own emotions in check. He turned back to you, running a hand through his hair, the tension from earlier still etched into his features.

“You’ll be alright”, he said quietly, though it sounded more like he was reassuring himself than you. “But I’ll stay up, just in case”.

You looked up at him, surprised by his offer. “You don’t have to do that, Jack. You’ve already done more than enough”.

Jack shook his head. “I’m not going to sleep knowing he might come back”. His voice was firm but kind, leaving no room for argument.

You gave a small nod, feeling a weight lift slightly from your chest knowing that, for tonight, you weren’t alone. “Thank you”, you whispered, your voice filled with more emotion than you expected.

Jack gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his expression softening. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that. No one should”.

The weight of his words hung in the air for a moment, and you could feel the tension between you shift again. Jack wasn’t just saying these things out of obligation—there was something deeper, something protective and genuine. You’d always known him to be a bit gruff, a little distant, but tonight, you were seeing a different side of him. A side that cared, even when he didn’t say it outright.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @cheynovak @ookidoki @deans-spinster-witch @n-o-p-e-never @riah1606 @stoneyggirl2 @saintnourah @ladysparkles78

[vodika-vibes]

Can we get some Echo smut pretty please!! (Also one of my biggest pet peeves is how like every tbb echo/reader fic is always about him being insecure about his prosthetics like I get it but it's so repetitive. My man can be so confident and cocky when he wants to be and people seem to forget that.)

Who's Insecure

Summary:  Several months after joining Clone Force 99, Hunter surprises them with a night off at a local club. But, for some reason, his brothers seem to think he will be insecure about his new appearance. Which means, he has a point to prove.

Pairing: TBB Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1557

Warnings: Smut, club sex, Echo uses his scomp for purposes it's not designed for

A/N: So, I love Echo, and I love Echo smut, and I'm really not sure why I don't write more of it. But, anyway, here's Echo smut with some plot. It's not a lot of smut, but I hope you like it anyway.

Click HERE to be added to my Taglist

It’s a nice club. It’s not 79s, it doesn’t have the same comfortable vibe that 79s has, but it’s good all the same. The alcohol is cheap, the snacks are edible, and the music is loud.

For Echo, it’s good enough.

Honestly, he’s more surprised that his little brothers were willing to go clubbing at all.

While he would never say so to their faces, they aren’t really the clubbing type.

Which is a shame, because there’s a cute girl near the bar who hasn’t taken her eyes off Tech since they arrived. But, knowing his genius little brother, he won’t notice. And, even if he did notice, he wouldn’t know what to do about it.

At times like this, he really misses Fives and Jesse.

But, much more importantly, he has his eyes on a pretty little thing dancing up a storm on the dance floor. So far she’s turned away everyone who’s tried to dance with her. That said, she keeps meeting his gaze and tossing him flirty grins, so he’s just biding his time.

What kind of older brother will he be if he ditches his brothers before making sure that they’re having a good time?

“Echo?” He pauses, his bottle only centimeters away from his lips, and he tears his eyes away from swaying hips to focus his attention on his, suddenly nervous, brother. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Just,” Hunter nervously shares a look with Crosshair, who looks almost bored, “We just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

Echo stares at them blankly for a moment, and then he smiles, “Sorry?” He’s got to at least pretend to be a good role model, right? He can’t just ask them what the kriff they’re talking about, that’s rude. 

“We know that you’re a little uncertain about your new look,” Tech says without looking up from his datapad.

I’m what now? Echo blinks at his brothers, genuinely thrown by Tech’s comment.

“And people can be cruel,” Hunter continues, “Just don’t let it get to you if people make comments—”

Suddenly, Echo realizes that his new little brothers seem to think that he’s insecure about his prosthetics. Or his scars. Or maybe both. Maybe he’s done too good of a job at hiding his gremlin personality (as Rex calls it) from them.

He hums thoughtfully, his mind racing, and then his gaze slides back to the dance floor. For a moment, his gaze lingers on a specific pair of swaying hips and legs that go on for miles…and then he smirks.

Echo downs the rest of his drink and sets the bottle on the table, before he pushes to his feet, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding, vod’e.” He turns to head to the dance floor, “I won’t be back to the Marauder tonight,” He tosses over his shoulder with a slightly smug smirk. 

He weaves through the crowd of people and dismisses the two men who are trying to force his dance partner to dance with them with a flick of two fingers. 

She grins up at him, “I wondered if you were going to join me,” She teases, her voice light and conversational.

Echo’s hand slides low on her hip, “Patience is a virtue, didn’t you know?” He’s amused and he sounds it, “I’m definitely worth waiting for, babe.”

She hums and trails her fingers down the front of his shirt, “Prove it?”

“Gladly.”

In full honesty, you didn’t expect the cute soldier to actually come over to you. You don’t expect your flirty looks, teasing smiles, and seductive dancing to tempt him onto the dance floor with you. Let alone for him to clutch you to him as though you’re his and his alone.

He’s confident and cocky, not to mention strong and unfairly handsome. He has you wrapped around his little finger after one dance, after two you’d probably agree to anything he asked, and after the third dance, you’re wondering what you have to do to be able to keep him.

Your back bumps against the cool metal door of a storage room, and you can feel the music from the club vibrating down to your bones, but neither sensation is as important to you as the feel of his lips against yours, and his tongue sliding against your own. 

His arm is tight around your waist, holding you flush against him, as he blindly opens the door behind you and then walks you into the small room. You hear him lock the door as it slides shut behind him, and you whine low in your throat as he pulls away from you. 

Echo chuckles and cups your cheek, “Someone’s eager,” He kisses you quickly, and pulls away again making you pout up at him. He looks amused, you can tell that much even in the dim light of the storage room, though you’re not sure why he’s so amused.

You don’t say anything, just deepen your pout, and lean into his warmth.

His thumb slides across your lower lip, “Ah, cyare. I’m going to have to break you of these bratty tendencies,” But, even as he says it, he looks delighted.

“Not bratty,” You whine, before you take his thumb into your mouth and suck on it gently. You have a very talented mouth, maybe if you show him just how talented you are he’ll continue touching you again.

You keep your gaze locked with his, so you watch as arousal darkens his gaze. “Very bratty,” His voice is lower now, and you shiver at the promising tone in his voice, “Take your clothes off.”

You blink at him and pull away from his thumb, “All of them?”

“Did I stutter?”

You take a step back and slowly start peeling your clothes off. You’re not wearing much, all things considered. A top, a skirt, panties, and your sandals. 

You’re about to toss your panties to join the rest of your clothes, but Echo tugs them out of your hand and shoves them in his pocket. You don’t mind, it’s not like you don’t have more after all.

“Mm, look at how pretty you are,” Echo murmurs, as he backs you toward a table near the back wall and encourages you to sit on it. It’s surprisingly sturdy, for a wooden table. He taps the inside of your knees, spreading your legs so that he’s able to stand between your thighs. 

His gaze drops to your pussy, and he releases a quiet breath, “Look at how wet you are,” His gaze flickers to your face as he slowly brushes his scomp against your clit, pulling a strangled whimper from you. “All this for me?”

For some reason, you feel like you should be embarrassed at just how aroused you are for this man you just met, but you aren’t. You feel safe and warm and you want more.

You are aware enough to know that he’s not a mind reader, so you squirm under him and spread your legs slightly, “More,”

He grins at you, “What was that? You want me to stop?”

“No, More! Echo—”

He pulls his scomp away from your clit, and you release a whine of displeasure, which is quickly muffled by his lips against yours, “Greedy,” He chides against your lips, “And so rude. Did no one teach you manners?” His tone is teasing.

You blink at him, hazily, “Please?” 

“Please what, beautiful?”

You tug on the front of his shirt, “Touch me,”

“I am touching you,”

And he is, his lips are moving across your jaw and down your neck, while his hand alternated between tightly clutching your hip, and caressing every inch of skin that he can reach.

You squirm against him, able to feel his erection pressed against your thigh through his jeans, “Stop teasing me,” You whine.

“All you have to do is tell me what you want,” Echo replies, “That’s it. You can do that, can’t you?”

“I want—” You’re interrupted by a loud moan at the sensation of his scomp ghosting against your pussy.

“You want?” He’s laughing, the jerk.

It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts, and you shoot him the neediest look you can muster, “I want your cock, please?”

His grin widens, “Well,” Echo leans in and kisses you slowly, “Who am I to deny such a polite request?”

He pulls away just enough to unfasten his pants and tug his boxers just enough out of the way for his cock to bounce free, “You’re not gonna fully undress?” You ask, breathlessly.

“If you’re a good girl,” Echo replies as he gathers some of your arousal on his fingers to spread on his cock, “Maybe you can have me in your bed and see me naked.”

“I can be good,” You counter, and then your head falls back with a moan as the head of his cock nudges your clit.

“Yeah?” His hand moves to the back of your head and he makes you look at him. There’s a grin on his handsome face, and you gasp as he thrusts deep inside you with one firm roll of his hips. 

Your fingernails dig into his shoulders, as he bottoms out and stops moving, much to your displeasure. 

Echo’s lips hover just over yours, as he throws your words back at you, “Prove it.”

@n0vqni @bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98 @tiredbi-peach @dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023 @kimiheartblade @padawancat97 @falconfeather23435 @etod

@bb8-99 @continous-mistakes @yoitsjay @cc--2224 @adriennelenoir

[pandapetals]

Juno

worst wolverine/logan x afab!reader - i guess angst, inspired by sabrina carpenter's song juno, mentions deadpool but not in fic, logan being nice, no y/n used, no reader description, human reader, cute ending, age gap

After saving the universe with Wade, Logan decides to be a better guy especially after he sees you.

read on Ao3

He was the worst Wolverine until he wasn’t—at least in this universe. Logan had been given a second chance, one he hadn’t expected, and this time, he was determined to take full advantage of it. He wasn’t used to being the “nice guy,” but hell, after all the lives he’d lived, the bloodshed, and the mistakes, he figured it was about time he tried something different. Something better.

So, he did his best to get along with Wade, despite how many times he considered cutting the guy in half just to get a moment of silence. He tolerated Wade’s endless banter, his chaotic sense of humor, and even his wild group of friends. Logan also made an effort with Laura, doing his best to be some kind of father figure to her, even if he had no idea how to be one. He was a nice— nice-ish —gruff guy now, or at least he was trying to be.

That’s why, when he saw you for the first time, walking out of the apartment across the hall, he decided to pull out all the stops. You weren’t someone he could easily ignore, and that realization hit him harder than he cared to admit.

Logan had noticed you right away—young, maybe mid-twenties, with that kind of light in your eyes that only came from people whose weight of the world hadn’t yet worn down. There was something about you that drew him in, something about the way you carried yourself that made him pause. You were different from the kind of people Logan was used to. You were good in a way that felt foreign to him—bright, untainted, and impossibly out of reach but he couldn’t help himself.

So, he tried. He’d grunt a greeting whenever you passed him in the hallway, offering a half-smile that probably looked more like a grimace. He’d hold the door open for you, although he never bothered with that kind of thing for anyone else. Every time your paths crossed, Logan made sure to do something to get your attention—something small, something that felt almost ridiculous for a guy like him, but it mattered.

He wasn’t sure what it was about you. Maybe it was the way you smiled at him—so soft, so genuine—that caught him off guard. Or maybe it was how you seemed so unbothered by his rough exterior like you weren’t intimidated by the man who was once feared across the multiverse. You just treated him like a person, and somehow, that made him want to be better.

One afternoon, Logan was leaning against the wall outside his apartment, a cigar between his lips, lost in his usual cycle of brooding thoughts when he heard your door open. Instinctively, his gaze flicked toward you. There you were, dressed casually, a bag slung over your shoulder as you fumbled with your keys. He pulled the cigar from his mouth, watching as you turned and met his eyes, giving him that same bright, unassuming smile that never failed to catch him off guard.

“Hey, Logan,” you said, your voice light and friendly like you’d known him forever.

Logan grunted in response, nodding slightly. “Hey.”

He wasn’t good at small talk. Never had been but for some reason, he found himself lingering there, his eyes following you as you locked your door and made your way down the hall toward the elevator.

“You headed somewhere?” he asked, surprising himself with the sudden question.

You paused, glancing back at him with a soft smile. “Just running some errands. Nothing exciting.” You looked him over for a moment, your eyes twinkling with something like amusement. “What about you? You always hanging out in the hallway like this?”

Logan smirked slightly, taking a slow drag of his cigar before answering. “Only when I’m bored. Which is most of the time.”

You chuckled, a sound that felt too easy, too natural coming from someone like you. It made Logan’s chest tighten, though he wasn’t sure why. “Maybe you need to find a new hobby,” you teased, tilting your head at him. “Something less... brooding.”

He couldn’t help but huff a laugh at that. “Brooding’s kind of my thing,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Not exactly easy to shake.”

“I can see that,” you said, your smile widening. “But, you know, there’s more to life than standing around with a cigar, looking all intense.”

Logan’s smirk grew, despite himself. You had a way of making him feel... lighter. Like he didn’t have to carry the weight of everything all the time, he shrugged. “Old habits die hard.”

You gave him one last lingering smile before heading toward the elevator. Logan watched you go, his eyes trailing after you as the doors slid shut behind you, leaving him alone again. Except, this time, something was different. The silence didn’t feel quite as heavy, quite as suffocating. He felt... less like the man he’d been, and more like the man he could be.

Over the next few weeks, Logan found more excuses to cross your path. He’d be leaving his apartment just as you were coming home, offering you a quiet nod and a gruff “hello” that somehow always led to a brief, easy conversation. He’d make sure to be around whenever you passed through, catching glimpses of your smile and feeling that strange warmth in his chest every time you acknowledged him.

One evening, you surprised him by knocking on his door. Logan opened it to find you standing there, your hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket, a shy smile on your lips.

“Hey,” you said, rocking on your heels a little. “I was about to order some takeout. Thought maybe you’d want to join me. Since, you know, I’m sure you have better things to do than hang around in the hallway.”

Logan blinked, taken aback. No one ever just invited him to hang out—especially not someone like you. He wasn’t sure how to respond at first, the words caught somewhere between his usual gruff demeanor and the part of him that was genuinely touched by your offer.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice softer than usual. “Yeah, sure. Why not.”

You smiled that bright, easy smile that made his heart do something strange in his chest. “Great. Chinese okay?”

Logan nodded, stepping aside to let you guide him into your apartment. Logan couldn’t help but think how absurd this would have seemed just a few months ago—him, in a normal apartment, about to have takeout with someone like you. Maybe that was the point of this second chance. To be something different. To be something better.

Maybe you were part of that better.

As you settled onto his couch, flipping through the takeout menu, Logan glanced at you from the corner of his eye, feeling that familiar tug deep inside him. You were young, full of life, and he was... well, he was trying. 

With a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, Logan sat down beside you on your couch, the takeout menu loosely held in his hand. His eyes softened as they landed on you, but he couldn’t help the flicker of distraction that pulled his gaze toward your apartment. Something about being in your space, seeing the personal touches that made it you, tugged at him in a way he couldn’t quite put into words.

“You really don’t mind me being here?” he asked suddenly, his fingers instinctively raking through the spiked hair. His tone was light, almost teasing, but the question had a layer of insecurity that caught even him off guard.

You laughed, that bright, warm sound that always made him feel lighter, more at ease. “No, I like you being here especially since you act all tough but really you’re cute.”

He shook his head, chuckling as he leaned back against the couch, still holding the menu loosely in one hand. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” you teased, nudging his arm lightly, “you like me anyway.”

Logan didn’t deny it. He just glanced at you, his gaze soft, almost unreadable in its intensity, before letting out a quiet, almost reluctant laugh. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “Yeah, I do.”

For a moment, you both fell into an easy silence, the kind that only happens when two people are comfortable with each other. 

Logan, never one to sit still for too long, found himself glancing around your apartment again. There was something about being in your space that fascinated him—maybe it was because your life felt so different from the chaos he was used to. It was quieter, softer, more... grounded.

His eyes landed on a vintage record player sitting on a small table near the window. A stack of vinyl records was neatly arranged beside it, the top one showing the faded cover of some old jazz album. Logan’s brow furrowed in mild curiosity.

“You actually use that thing?” he asked, nodding toward the record player, a faint smirk on his face.

You glanced over at it, smiling fondly. “Of course I do. There's something about vinyl that just sounds... different. Better, in a way. It’s like you can feel the music, you know?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at you like he was seeing you in a whole new light. “Didn’t peg you for the vinyl type.”

You chuckled softly, leaning back into the couch. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Logan.”

That made him pause, something stirring in his chest. The idea that there were layers to you he hadn’t uncovered yet intrigued him. He glanced down at the menu in his hands, but his focus was still on you. He was here, sitting in your apartment, fumbling over a takeout menu, and all he could think about was how different his life felt now compared to just months ago.

You nudged him with your foot, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Come on, focus. What do you want to order?”

Logan grunted, shifting his attention back to the menu, but his mind kept drifting—first to the record player, then to the framed photos on your bookshelf, and then, inevitably, back to you. There was something about this—this quiet moment, the simplicity of choosing takeout and sitting on a couch with someone who made him feel less... lost. Something that felt like it mattered.

After a few more minutes of back-and-forth, you settled on Chinese food. Logan called in the order, and while you waited for it to arrive, you slipped off the couch and walked over to the record player.

“Wanna see what you’ve been missing?” you asked, already pulling out a record and carefully placing it on the turntable.

Logan raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Impress me.”

You smiled as the crackle of the needle hitting vinyl filled the room, followed by the warm, melodic tones of a classic jazz tune. The music washed over the space, and for a moment, Logan just listened, his eyes locked on you as you swayed lightly to the rhythm.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said softly, leaning back into the couch as he watched you.

“I try,” you teased, sending him a wink before joining him again on the couch.

As the music played, the two of you settled back into comfortable conversation, the warmth between you growing with each shared glance, each quiet laugh.

Weeks passed after that night, and before long, the easy camaraderie between you and Logan had deepened into something more. It wasn’t like he’d planned it—he’d never planned anything in his life. Somewhere between stolen glances in the hallway, lazy evenings spent listening to vinyl records, and quiet mornings where he found himself waking up next to you, Logan had fallen for you.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t something he had to agonize over. It was just... right. Like this was how it was supposed to be.

You didn’t push him, and maybe that was why it worked. You gave him space when he needed it, but you were there when he came to you—no judgment, no expectations. You let him be himself, and in return, he found himself wanting to be better for you.

As you lay beside him one lazy Sunday afternoon, your head resting on his chest while the soft sound of rain pattered against the window, you felt something shift between you. It wasn’t just the comfort of being together—it was the weight of something unspoken that had been building for weeks.

You turned your head slightly, looking up at him. Logan’s eyes were closed, his arm draped casually around your waist, but you could tell he wasn’t asleep. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, grounding you in the warmth of the moment.

“Logan,” you murmured, your voice soft, hesitant.

He grunted in response, opening one eye to glance down at you. “Yeah?”

You bit your lip, nerves fluttering in your stomach. You’d been thinking about this for a while now, but you hadn’t been sure how to bring it up. But here, now, in the quiet of your shared space, it felt like the right time. “I was thinking... maybe it’s time we took the next step.”

Logan’s fingers stilled for a moment, and you could feel him processing your words. He didn’t pull away or tense up the way you thought he might. Instead, he shifted slightly, turning to face you more fully.

“What do you mean?” His voice was soft and careful, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes.

“I mean...” You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I want to be with you. Completely.” 

Logan blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment as he absorbed what you were saying. You searched his face, waiting for him to pull back, to tell you this was too much, too fast. But instead, he surprised you.

His hand came up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “You sure about that?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion. “I’m sure. I know what I want, Logan. And I want you. All of you.”

For a moment, Logan just looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find any hesitation, any doubt. But when he didn’t find any, a slow, genuine smile spread across his face—the kind of smile you didn’t see often, but when you did, it melted your heart.

“If that’s what you want... then yeah. I want that too,” he said quietly, his voice rough but full of warmth.

Relief and joy washed over you, and without thinking, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a slow, tender kiss. His hand slipped behind your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, the warmth between you growing into something more.

You felt the weight of his body as he shifted over you, the heat of his skin against yours as the rain continued to fall softly outside. And in that moment, with Logan’s arms wrapped around you, everything felt right. The future, whatever it held, didn’t feel so uncertain anymore.

You had each other and that was enough.

[voxslays]

“Jail is fun.” Stanley Pines x Reader

You were waiting in the Mystery Shack for Stan, waiting for him to return, when suddenly the phone rang. “Hello? Hey uh...Listen I’m at the county jail…I kinda need you to bail me out…” Stan says, clearly anxious. You heard him awkwardly laugh from the other side of the phone. His gruff-voice going soft whenever he spoke to you “Please..?" He strained out, making an over dramatic gag at the end in an attempt to lighten up the situation. “Fine.” You say, clearly annoyed as you hang up the phone, pick up your keys, and get in the car.

As you pull up to the jail, Stan is sitting handcuffed to a bench, his head hung low. He looks up as you walk in, a sheepish grin on his face. "Heyyy... " He shrinks back a little when he notices how pissed you are. "Aw come on now, don't give me that look...I'm sorry, alright? I swear, it was just a little misunderstanding..." He trails off, realizing you probably don't want to hear his excuses right now.

“Don’t talk to me for a couple days.” You say as you get into the car and start the engine. Stan sulks into the passenger seat, buckling his seatbelt with his handcuffed hands. He sits silently, staring out the window, sulking like a scolded child. After a few minutes, he can't take the silence anymore. "You mad at me?" He chuckles awkwardly. “What do you think?” You ask angrily, not taking your eyes off the road. 

He lets out a sigh, slumping down in his seat. "Yeah, I think you are... I'm sorry, okay? I really am..." His voice is sincere, and he looks over at you with puppy dog eyes. "Can we talk about it?" He asks softly. “Fine.” You grumble. He hesitates before speaking, choosing his words carefully. "It was just... a moment of weakness, you know? I didn't mean to get caught, honest..." He trails off, waiting for your response. 

“I’m not mad. Just disappointed.” You say, still upset. Stan's face falls, and he looks down at his lap. "I...I understand...I let you down..." He pauses, then looks up at you with determination in his eyes. "But I swear, I'll make it up to you." His eyes sparkle with a hint of devotion. He sits in silence for a moment, thinking. Then, he speaks up again, his voice filled with excitement. "I know! I know what I can do to make it up to you!"  He leans forward, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. “Hm?” You ask, eyes still glued to the road.

"We can go on an adventure! You know, like we used to...before all this...adult stuff...got in the way..." He gestures vaguely, referring to his recent run-ins with the law. "Just you and me, like old times...Just like when we were kids.” He says, his eyes gleaming with determination. “That was over fifty years ago.” You remind him. Stan's face falls, and he looks down at his lap, his excitement deflating. "Right... of course it was... Well, I guess I was just trying to hold on to something..." He trails off, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “...Okay.” You say. 

Stan looks up, surprise etched on his face. "Okay? You mean... you'll go on an adventure with me?"  He can't hide the hopefulness in his voice. "For real?" He asks excitedly. “Yes.” You say, your words genuine. Stan's face breaks out into a wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Really?!" He leans over and plants a big kiss on your cheek, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He exclaims. You pull up to the mystery shack and get out of the car. “So where should we go?” You ask. Stan looks out at the dark woods surrounding the shack, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "How about... we follow the road less traveled?"  He nods towards a barely visible path leading into the trees. "See where it takes us..." He says mischievously.

After a few long hours of hiking, you make it to the mystery mountain. As the sun begins to set, casting an orange glow over everything, Stan looks up at the towering mountain before you, his eyes wide. "Well... would you look at that..." He whistles lowly, impressed. "We haven't been here in... well, ever."

“It's just as beautiful as I remember it.” You say, taking in your surroundings. Stan grins at you, his eyes reflecting the golden hues of the sunrise. "Told ya it'd be worth the climb." He sits down on a nearby rock, catching his breath. "You wanna... take a little break? Catch our breath before we start the descent?" He huffs. “Sure.” You say.

Stan nods, then looks around, his eyes lighting up as he spots a flat, grassy patch. "Let's lay down for a bit, huh?"  He toddles over to the spot and plops down, patting the ground beside him invitingly. You lay down beside Stanley on the moist green grass. Stan closes his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. "This is nice." He murmurs, his voice soft and content. "Just the two of us. No worries. No cares..." He sighs happily, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. “I love you.” You say as you turn your head towards him. Stan's smile widens, and he rolls onto his side, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. "I love you too.”

[edges-of-night]

Hello, hope this message finds you well! I would like to request (if the idea interests you of course) the fellowship responding to the reader asking “would you still love me if I was a worm/toad?”

What an inspired idea, anon haha! This one was fun to think about; hopefully it’s just as much fun to read! Enjoy ♡

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Even though you asked him out of nowhere, Aragorn considers your questions rather seriously. Sitting by a fire with you, it takes him a while to answer: “Why wouldn’t I?” It should’ve been obvious to you that a ranger – and one as kind and gentle-hearted as him! – would naturally see beauty in every creature, no matter its general reputation. To him, it’s not a question.

.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir would shoot you a confused smile when you asked him your question. “What? Why would you turn into a worm…?” You’d blush and explain it to him, which would make him laugh in relief. “Why worry about such nonsense?” – “What, me turning into a worm?” – “No, silly! Me not loving you!” he’d say and pull you close for a kiss ♡ (He’d probably still worry about the sudden question because he cares for you that much haha!)

.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

When you ask Frodo your question, it catches him off-guard. He’d look up from his book and ask you to repeat, even though he was already listening carefully. But the question has him double-checking! Your adorable explanation makes him laugh. He’d take your hands and say, “The things you think about! If you ever manage to turn yourself into a worm, you must turn me as well, so that we may live happy lives in our worm-house underground.”

.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf smokes his pipe when you ask him your question and smacks his lips as he contemplates the scenario. “A curious proposition…” For a moment, the furrow of his bushy eyebrows makes it look like he was about to scold you for your nonsense, but then he’d shoot you a playful smirk and assure you that yes, if you were to turn into a worm, he would still love you all the same.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

You ask Gimli your question at a late-night banquet, making him pause and laugh. “I do not know if a worm would want to live in stone though! Wouldn’t you leave for grassier, muddier grounds? What would a worm want with a Dwarf?” Just like that, he has turned your question around! The ensuing nonsense conversation makes it certain: The two of you are inseparable ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas is a very playful Elf and enjoys the games and riddles you two tend to play, so your question would not come entirely out of the blue for him. He would tilt his head and pout, pretending to consider it gravely. “A worm? A creature so foul and tiny and all too disagreeable?” – his face splits into a grin – “Why yes, of course!” Additionally, he’d incorporate “little worm” into his endless list of pet names for you.

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Your question to Merry would probably come up during one of your philosophical conversations. But instead of stopping Merry dead in his tracks, he’d simply answer, “Yes, next question.” To him, it genuinely is not up for debate if changing your appearance would impact his feelings for you. When you dig deeper, he’d probably say something like, “I’d have to get used to it, but that’s it” and grin at you.

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Let’s be honest: The question would probably come from Pippin in the first place. Maybe he had watched a worm or a toad travelling through a meadow nearby, or even overheard other Hobbits asking their partner about the dreaded scenario. He keeps wondering if he’d still be lovable as a worm but leaves no doubt should that fate befall you: This Hobbit loves you to the moon and back!

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

No contest: Sam Gamgee wins this one by a mile. When you ask him, no matter how unsurely, he’d cross his arms with a thoughtful sigh and start his answer by explaining how important worms are in the circle of nature to keep the ground and gardens alive. “And that’s just that, y’know? I don’t have to find ‘em beautiful, but I’d simply be lost without them. And if it was you, oh, y’know, there’d be no question about it. I’d tinker with a bit of wood to make you an indoor garden, so you have some dirt to crawl in even when we’re inside the house. Something I can carry around. And somethin’ to eat. Unless you don’t want to. I’d bring you the good dirt from Farmer Maggot, and some apples, too. Your favourite flowers must be there too, so that’s – hm? What’re smilin’ at me like that for? You asked the question…”

[nottsbitch]

You Know - L.B.

summary: Finally confronting Enzo

contains smut

✩✩✩✩

It had been a week since you found out about Enzo, and that was the last time that he had visited you.

You figured it was because he was busy or maybe he realized what he was doing was weird. But in reality, he knew that you knew, as soon as he caught you staring at him he knew. You never gave him the time of day now he felt your eyes on him every time you were in the same room which could only mean one thing. You knew.

He took that as his sign to back off until things blew over. So now as he sat in the back corner of the library he couldn't help himself as his thoughts drifted to you. He missed seeing you of course but didn't want to risk things.

As he sat in his daydream about you, he was completely oblivious to you talking to his friends.

"I just need to know where he is Riddle." You rolled your eyes realizing that your conversation with Matteo and Theo was currently going nowhere.

"What could you possibly want with our sweet little Enzo?" This came from Theo.

Both of the men in front of you were shocked that you were looking for Enzo. To their knowledge, the two of you had never spoken a word to each other and now you were basically begging for his location.

"I need to talk to him" They could tell you were getting more and more annoyed the longer you stood there.

"Last time I saw him he was going to the library. Don't sneak up on him he might faint when he realizes it's you." Both boys had known about their friend's longtime crush on you and smirked as you stomped away from them.

You were quick in the halls not giving yourself any time to think about what you were going to say when you reached him, which was quicker than you thought.

Before you knew it you were stopped in front of him "What is wrong with you?"

Enzo stuck in his own thoughts didn't notice you until you opened your mouth "Excuse me?" You could see the twinkle in his eye as he held back his smirk.

"I know what you were doing, all of a sudden I catch you in the act then you disappear. You are nowhere to be found, won't even look in my direction, and I feel like I'm losing my mind." At this point, he couldn't hold back the smile on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The fake curiosity was genuine in his voice.

At this moment it felt like your body and your mind were wanting two different things, and before you even realized you had moved you were in the seat so close to the man next to you he could feel your breath on his cheek.

Leaning into his ear you whispered "Cut the bullshit, Enzo"

"All I'm hearing right now is that you're desperate for attention." If he wanted to play this game you weren't going to make it easy on him.

You put on your most innocent face before looking him in the eyes "Only if it's coming from you."

Though he thought he was doing a good job at keeping his poker face you could see right through him. You knew you were effecting him as much as he was effecting you making it just as easy for you to get into his head.

"So this is okay?" He whispered as his hand found its way to your thigh, causing you to momentarily forget why this conversation even started.

As his hand moved up your thigh you were confused by the fact that his head went back down to his book pretending to focus on whatever he was doing before you got there. With an innocent look on his face, it contrasted the fact that things didn't stay innocent for long.

He leaned into you, his other arm tightening on your waist as he used you to pull your chair closer to his.

You still hadn't responded to him instead choosing silence waiting to see how far this would actually go. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, letting your eyelids flutter as he brought his lips to your neck.

"Lost your words?" He paused his assault on your neck to whisper in your ear, Causing you to move your hand to his thigh giving it a warning squeeze.

You still felt his breath on your skin causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. Enzo knew what he was doing of course and he was loving the reaction he was getting.

You felt your walls coming down by each second the teasing continued. You chose this. moment to look into his eyes noticing how dark they had gotten. You were fucked.

He smirked, his lips finding their way back to your ear "You gotta stay quiet."

His words sent shivers down your spine, as his hand started to massage your inner thigh, his fingertips getting awfully close to where you wanted them most but not giving you that satisfaction.

You let out a breath and adjust yourself, spreading your legs even wider. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Enzo smirk as he squeezed your thigh hard, before finally moving his hand. He started off slow, his hands teasing you over your underwear.

At this point, you had forgotten where you were. Enzo had snuck his fingers underneath your underwear now and was circling them on your clit. You were biting down on your lip trying to hold back a moan at the sudden wave of pleasure, of course Enzo noticed.

"Not a sound." He whispered making you even more aroused. He started increasing his pace, making your hips start to grind softly against him. You were soaked now and this was only more encouragement for Enzo.

You had dug your nails into his thigh and buried your head in his shoulder, hoping it would muffle the sounds you couldn't hold in any longer. His head had leaned against yours, and at the same time, he pushed a finger inside of you, curving it up to hit your g-spot.

Your mouth fell open, and you groaned against his neck as he slid his finger in and out of you. The rush of being caught was turning you on even more. You felt another wave of pleasure run through you that only intensified as he added another finger.

His eyes had not left your face once, enjoying the effect he was having on you. He watched as your eyes closed when he pushed even deeper inside of you.

Your legs had started to twitch and you were biting your tongue hoping to stay quiet on the brink of your orgasm. He brought his ear down your face so he could hear you say the words.

"I'm close." He pulled his face away and looked into your eyes, a smug look on his face as he slowed down his fingers until he came to a complete stop.

"Remember who has the upper hand here."

You couldn't stop your jaw from dropping as you watched him pack up his things as if nothing had happened.

"I'll see you soon." Turning and leaving before you could get a single word out.

"What just happened?" You said to no one except yourself trying to wrap your head around if this was a dream or not, but the wetness in your underwear told you everything you needed to know.

✩✩✩✩

[arsenicflame]

Bootblacking is my favourite kink to give Izzy, because of course this guy would get his rocks off doing precise, repetitive, manual labour. OF COURSE he gets off on what is essentially just another chore on his list.

[masi0ngna]

I love you insulindian phasmid

[the5n00k]

‼️Frightmares on Main Street Spoilers‼️

That new episode was great btw I tore up my throat